


The Inquisitor & the Teen Wolves

by Uthizaar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Alpha Pack, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Magic, Complete, Dark Magic, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Jackson becomes a BAMF, M/M, Mind Meld, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Jackson, Runes, Violence, original lore, runic power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uthizaar/pseuds/Uthizaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Re-edited the summary after the last chapter)<br/>The Alpha Pack, Stackson goodness, Pack dynamics, dark magic and an original character thrown in for good measure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Shadows

“C’mon man, you can’t just leave me here!” Stiles squeaked, “Damn it Jackson!” 

The boy was out cold and Stiles could hear the steady thud of a heavy thread coming towards them. The rustling of dead leaves underfoot as the dark shadow crept towards them, not trying to mask the sound. It was almost glorying in this deliberate hunt. The sharp smell of Stiles' fear reached the Alpha, while the prone body beside him was a softer, newer smell; like a fresh born cub. So this was the new wolf! 

Stiles bunched his hands in Jackson’s perfectly pressed shirt and tried to lift him up; ignoring how his hands felt against Jackson's hard abs and muscled chest. 'Yeah, don't think about that one Lacrosse practice, Stiles.' He muttered to himself, trying to banish the images of the jock's pale, perfect form from his mind. The Alpha stopped suddenly as a new scent reached her. It was sweet and hot, spicy and thrilling. The smell sent her tongue rolling against enlarged fangs as she savoured the taste. She grinned a feral grin and turned back to the boys. The conscious one, lean, lanky, black hair growing out of a buzz cut; he was aroused. Even in his bone shaking fear he was turned on by the very act of touching the new wolf. Oh yes, this would be delicious!

A soft hiss of air caused Stiles to freeze, his arms slowly dropping and letting Jackson fall back onto the forest floor. The hairs on the back of his neck slow rose. He turned quickly glancing backwards. There was a figure emerging from the shadows, the half covered moon throwing the trees into deep pools of darkness and sudden spears of light. Stiles looked up into the glinting red eyes and contorted face; the fangs reaching down past lips of blood red. They were big, bigger than anything he had seen before. The claws reached out towards him and time slowed to a stop, the werewolf’s razor edges brushing the soft flesh of his neck.

Suddenly there is a flash of brilliant blinding light and Stiles is flung to the ground, the Alpha crying out in pain, raising an arm to block the glare. She backs off slowly, turning her head as she let loose savage primal snarls. She looks for the source of the light, but sees nothing. Then the smell comes wafting out of the trees. At first it's clean and pure and as white as the glare in front of her. Then it shifts as the fullness reaches her. The Alpha had been killing for a long time; she knew the scents of death, of carnage and gore left after a pack had torn through. This smell was like that, but magnified. Then it shifted again and she screamed in agony as the smell of burning mountain ash assaulted her nostrils.

‘Leave him be, beast of the night!’ A gruff firm voice, unrecognisable to Stiles rang out in the forest, ‘they are of no consequence to you.’ Another thud, metallic sounding, echoed through the trees, the Alpha dropped onto all fours, its legs quivering, blood running down from its twisted nose and escaped into the trees. Stiles collapsed against the tree, his heart slowing, blood pumping with adrenalin, his hands shaking as he slumped down, unconsciously reaching for Jackson's hand. Stiles’ sight began to fade to blurriness but he thought he could make out the shadow approaching him. The tall staff, the long billowing robes over silvery armour, the hooded cowl throwing the man's face in deeper shadow. Stiles watched through heavy, lidded eyes as the figure knelt beside him, struggling to say thank you, to say anything. 'Hush, now, young one. let the darkness take you.' The man's voice was no longer gruff and angry, but soft and soothing. Stiles fell into it almost gladly, eyes fluttering; then darkness.


	2. Introductions

The Inquisitor looked down at the two prone teenagers at his feet. Sniffing slightly he held the ornate staff out in front of him, turning slowly to face the empty clearing. Nothing. Sighing to himself he turned back to regard the two boys thoughtfully. He hadn’t meant to interfere; he wasn’t supposed to interfere: revealing his presence to the Alpha had been foolish and full of the unnecessary drama he was meant to have left behind. With a wave of his hands he could have struck from the shadows and left the werewolf in a pile of whimpering fur; but no he had to show off. And for someone who was already taken. This was one of those times that being eternally eighteen sucked. The Inquisitor began to pace slowly as he continued to berate himself. 

He had watched them run from the Alpha pack in the clearing outside the ruined house on the edge of town. He had listened as their young leader had yelled at the new wolf, Jackson, to take the human, Stiles, into the forest. There was such panic and disorder as the Alpha pack fell amongst them; all too soon they were fighting for their lives. Clad in his shadows the Inquisitor had watched them flee and fight without emotion. Then as Stiles and Jackson ran past him he caught a glimpse of the boy’s face. His fear was obvious, but shining through his eyes was a steely determination that captured the Inquisitor’s attention. He tilted his head following their movements past him into the darkness of the trees. He followed them silently across the woodland floor, through piles of dead leaves and around fallen trees. He watched with interest as Jackson turned around reaching behind him for Stiles’ hand and pulled him along even faster. The Inquisitor didn’t miss Stiles’ sudden grin or Jackson’s flushing cheeks. He followed them farther still as they entered a clearing just as the half-moon came out from behind the trees. He watched as Jackson looked behind Stiles to see if they were being followed and in doing so lost his footing. He released Stiles’ hand as he fell down his head crashing into a rock with a sickening crunch. ‘Jackson!’ Stiles cried out as he struggled to find the teenager in the gloom of the night. 

And then he heard it. The slow careful tread of an animal stalking its prey in the wild; the hungry restrained breathing of a predator closing in. The Inquisitor spotted the Alpha rising from all fours just out of sight of the clearing. He looked back over to Stiles as the boy tried to wake Jackson up. He was having little luck, although his healing power was kicking in, Jackson was still unconscious. The Inquisitor sighed internally, despite his orders he could not just stand by and watch the boys get torn to pieces. The Alpha was rapidly approaching Stiles unnoticed as he began to haul Jackson upright. Throwing off the shadows that surrounded him as a cloak the Inquisitor brought up his staff and released the mountain ash vapour from its pouch at his side.

Within a few minutes he was standing over Stiles and Jackson regarding them thoughtfully. He stopped pacing the clearing and crouched down at where the blue-black blood of the Alpha had dripped onto the ground. He reached out gloved fingers and scooped up some; rolling the texture between a finger and his thumb. There was just enough for what he needed to do. Reaching into the depths of his robes he pulled out a fragile looking runestone; its markings a dull silver in the darkness. He turned towards the moon’s soft light and held it upright, watching as the runic markings began to flare and burn bright. He clenched his fist and broke the stone into a fine white dust. Taking a pinch he cast it over the two unconscious forms behind him, nodding with satisfaction as the powder sunk into their skin and feeling the reassuring weight of two identical marker stones fill his pockets. He would now be able to feel their presence and their proximity to the Inquisitor and each other. Taking the rest of the dust he poured it onto the blood strewn leaves, watching as the white grains turned black. He grasped his staff with both hands as he began the binding ritual. 

A soft crunching of leaves behind him forced him to stop. His time was up; the other members of the pack must be nearby. He fell to his knees and felt the forest floor with his hands. He concentrated, feeling the vibrations beneath his out-stretched fingers. No, these were not the other Alphas. Their tread was different; this must be the pack Stiles and Jackson came from. The Inquisitor stood up, turned to look at the teenagers once before he slipped back into the shadows with a sudden grin. He was gone from sight and scent by the time Scott and Derek burst into the clearing in a frenzy of sweat and rage.


	3. Shadows, Glares & Stares

Jackson’s head was pounding, the seat of his pants soaked through after sitting on the damp ground for so long, one of his hands was holding something surprisingly soft yet firm. He tightened his grip instinctively, yet upon doing so he heard a most unwolf-like giggle from in front of him. Scott. The teenager’s scent was very distinctive, much like the one next to him: Stiles. Jackson quickly let go of the boy’s hand, opened his eyes with a wince and scrabbled to get upright. Derek was pacing back and forth across the clearing as Peter knelt among the dead leaves as though searching for something. Scott was looking at Jackson slyly, a grin playing about his lips. Jackson could feel himself blush and just glared at him. Stiles let out a moan as he began to come to, his hands searching wildly through the undergrowth as his eyes fluttered open. Not before letting out an almost obscene groan with Jackson’s name at the end, he opened his eyes fully and realised they were all staring at him. Derek glared at him with his usual sourness; Scott was midway between grinning and shocked, while Jackson just glared even harder. Meanwhile Peter stood up in the middle of them all and gave a rare, somewhat disturbing, smile. ‘Ah, young love!’ Jackson snorted and began to stalk out of the clearing. ‘Stop!’ Derek called out, ‘We’re not done Jackson.’ The teenager stopped, stared at the ground for a moment and returned sullenly to stand beside Stiles, looking everywhere but at him. Stiles for his part had the modesty to look a little embarrassed, but Jackson’s face was scrunched up with his eyebrows pulled together and that was just the cutest thing Stiles had ever seen. So he spent the next few minutes attempting to spy on Jackson from the corner of his eyes and not get caught.

Derek watched their interaction silently for a few minutes before shaking his head and turning to his uncle, ‘Anything?’

‘Yeah.’ Peter stood up and pointed to a patch of leaves, ‘An Alpha bled here; suddenly and badly. Black blood from the face most likely, it dripped all over these leaves. But there’s something else.’ He bent down to pick up a strange blackish crystalline powder before holding it out to Derek. ‘See?’

‘Yeah.’ Derek nods to himself before dropping the powder to the ground, ‘You think it’s one of them?’

‘One of what?’ Scott approached the two older men, tired of watching Stiles’ hopeless flirting attempts. ‘What is it?’

Peter and Derek look at one another, before the older man shrugs, ‘Sure, tell him.’

Derek scowls at his uncle before turning to Scott, ‘Just as there are different types of wers, there are different types of hunters. Some are more traditional than the Argents, some use more unusual methods to track us down-‘

‘And some are merely the stuff of rumour and legend,’ Peter interrupts as Scott turns to look at him. ‘This is likely nothing, just a lucky hit from a rogue hunter. You get them sometimes, especially following an Alpha pack, men and women who hunger for revenge, because Alphas, especially an entire pack, are full of bloody single-mindedness.’ 

Scott looks from one to the other and nods, accepting Peter’s explanation. Before he can comment though, the older man goes on, ‘Why don’t we ask the love birds over there what happened, if they weren’t too distracted?’ He grins evilly as Jackson growls under his breath and scowls even harder. Stiles swallows audibly as he thinks of all the things he and Jackson could be distracted by. Derek rolls his eyes, ‘Stiles we’re all werewolves here, we can tell you’re horny.’ 

‘Uh…’ Stiles gapes at him and then at everyone else. Derek was never so blunt, well ok he was, frequently, mostly, ok all of the time, but really did he have to say it like that? Stiles’ internal monologue was interrupted by a sharp growl from his left, ‘Can we just get this over with?’

‘What did you see?’

Stiles takes them through the moonlit chase in the darkness, the running, the jumping and the dodging around the trees until he comes to the part where Jackson got injured. According to Stiles’ perspective Jackson had heroically attempted to save him from a marauding holly bush before tripping on a hidden stone, falling down a steep ravine and smashing his head open. The disbelieving stares he got back told him he should have substituted ‘holly bush’ for a rampaging Alpha. Jackson’s face was lingering between that ultra-cute frown and that smouldering hot glare. Derek sighs and indicates for him to continue. 

‘Right, so then there was this Alpha creeping up on me from behind, and then whoosh! A massive white light filled the clearing and I went one way and the Alpha was flung back and then it was bleeding and I couldn’t really see since I hit my head and fell on Jackson. But I couldn’t get off.’ Scott and Peter sniggered while Jackson glared at him again. ‘Err, no, I mean, the light was too bright to see anything and then there was this voice, all gruff and foreboding and harsh. And then the Alpha was gone and I could feel myself slipping into the darkness. And then he, I think it was a guy anyway, he was here in front of me and that’s kinda it,’ Stiles finished lamely as Peter stepped right up to him and took a big sniff. Jackson all but pushed him away from Stiles, ‘Back the fuck off!’ 

‘Eh, Jackson?’ Stiles looked at him questioningly, ‘What the hell?’

The boy didn’t say anything just huffed to himself and glared at Peter. Derek nodded to himself and made a note to talk to Jackson about that later. ‘Well?’ he addresses the question to his uncle.

‘Mmh, mountain ash with hints of silver, and old travelling cloth. Leather from cows in France or possibly England. Definitely a man, young in body, holding something made of wood and gold and iron. And he was not afraid.’ Peter looked at Derek, ‘That’s all I can get, everything else is Stiles. But it was still stronger there than at the leaves.’

‘Wait you can smell all that?’ Scott looked between Derek and Peter, ‘is this some secret Alpha power?’

Peter shakes his head, ‘Since being…resurrected I’ve been able to smell everything so much more; lingering scents, old smells, objects and furniture and people. I was able to smell the Alphas before they came here tonight. Useful but fading.’

‘Huh, so silver? Isn’t that odd, since it doesn’t work on us?’

Peter looked at Scott thoughtfully; he had heard of the European warrior-hunters who wore silver plate armour and rough hand woven robes and cloaks, who wielded powers too mystical and great to be true. ‘Not all hunter families are as old as the Argents, some of the new ones take any advantage they think they can have; it’s nothing.’ 

Derek nods and gestures to Jackson, Scott and Stiles, ‘You should get going, it’s the first day back at school after the break, we’ll discuss this later today.’ Stiles frowns at him, but follows the other two out of the clearing and back to the Hale house where he left his jeep. At least he hoped his jeep was still there. Derek and Peter remained in the clearing talking softly before they too returned to their family’s ruined house.

Jackson snapped the door of his Porsche, without saying anything to either of the two other teenagers and drove off in a flurry of burning rubber and falling leaves. Scott said nothing as Stiles threw a hurt glance after the departing sports car. He had thought that after Jackson had defended him in the forest…  
‘You coming, Stiles?’

‘Yeah, just a second.’ He climbed up into the cab and Scott hopped in beside him. Stiles was quiet on the way home, but Scott kept glancing over to his friend until he finally had the nerve to try to nonchalantly say ‘So…you and Jackson, huh?’

Stiles started and stared at him, ‘Ah, no, maybe, yeah ok, I like him!’

Scott coughed back a surprised gasp, ‘But what about Lydia? You’ve been crushing on her for ever, bro.’

Stiles’ cheeks coloured even more in the gloom of the cab, ‘Yeah, well I only pretended to like her ‘cos she started being all friendly to Jackson and then they started going out and it was easier to say I liked her rather than him, and I could totally creep on him without you going all ‘wha?’ on me.’ Stiles ended his rambling explanation with a quick glance at Scott’s even more confused face.

‘Huh? Seriously Stiles?’ Scott turned to face his friend as they swung onto his street, ‘Who the hell cares if you’re into Jackson? I don’t and he doesn’t either.’

‘Ah come on, Scott! He hates me!’

‘No dude, he doesn’t. You don’t have werewolf senses, I do. He totally likes you.’ Scott opened the door and prepared to say goodnight.

‘Wait!’ Stiles leans over the handbrake, ‘how do you know?’

‘Well, let’s just say you weren’t the only horny teenage boy back in the clearing and it wasn’t me.’ Scott winks, closes the door and lets it sink in. As he was opening his front door, he turned to wave at Stiles and saw him punch the air. Scott grinned and went inside.

 

On the other side of town in a freshly painted bungalow, the Inquisitor entered what had been the living room and turned on his computer. Throwing back his hood as the machine began to boot up, he yawned. Shadow cloaking was arduous and tiring, he would need to refill his runic power soon. The screen glowed bright as the Inquisitor entered his password and brought up Skype. He entered the name of his contact and waited as they were connected. Bing! A shadowy figure sat across from him as his own image was broadcast across the world.

‘You have returned.’ The voice was clipped and reasoned, soft and silent as it slipped out of the figure’s mouth. ‘What news have you?’

The Inquisitor sighed before replying, ‘The Alphas are here, sooner than I expected. I’m not sure what they’re searching for. But I do not think it is the new wolf.’

‘The Kanima, you mean?’

‘Yes, I thought they might want the boy, but I do not think they know who he is beyond a freshly turned wer.’

‘Is that our link?’

‘No.’ The Inquisitor rises and paces before the camera, ‘the Seals are breaking, of that I am certain. But I do not know why yet.’

‘Then find out! That is why you are there. These wer packs are of no concern in the grand scale of things. You remember your mission, I trust?’ The shadowy figure leant forward, revealing a dark skinned woman in her mid-50s, black hair fallen in a curtain around her face.

‘Of course I remember.’ The Inquisitor snapped back. ‘And they are important! Their school, their Alpha’s home, the Sheriff’s station: all are interlinked with this pack. All are built on runic Seals of power.’

She sighed, over the line it sounded like crackling static, ‘Then you are committed?’ He nods as she continues to speak. ‘Very well, let’s go over it once more. You will infiltrate the school as a student and establish a connection to the members of the pack you identified tonight. You have been authorised to use all the powers you possess to influence and enrapture them-‘

‘I can make friends on my own, Moia, I don’t need to resort to the other powers.’

‘Of course, it’s been a while since you were last in school though?’

‘A hundred and ten years, I believe.’

‘Yes, well, test the Seals, ensure their integrity and report back. If needs be I’ll send a senior Inquisitor to finish the mission.’

He bristled at that last part, ‘That won’t be necessary. I can handle it.’

She tilts her head on one side and grins joylessly. ‘If you insist. As long as you avoid personal entanglements as you failed to do so in Egypt, then the task is all yours. Do not fail me Aurubar. We will be watching.’

The screen went dark and Aurubar released the breath he had been holding. He checked the wards around the house and retired to the bedroom. Before slipping under the covers he took out the two runestones tied to Jackson and Stiles and regarded them thoughtfully, before he fell into a world of fast dreams and handsome teenagers with buzz cuts and smouldering glares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time. I wanted to flesh everything out, give a bit more character to my interpretation of Stiles and Jackson as the main characters. As well as add a bit of tension to their relationship.


	4. Face to Face

The Inquisitor rose early and dressed carefully trying to remember what people his age were supposed to wear. He wanted to appear normal so that he could make a good first impression on his targets. It was an old game, one he had played for many centuries although as time wore on he found himself increasing confused by the fashion sense of the younger generations. At least this time he would be comfortable; he put on a plain white t-shirt before pulling a red and white patterned shirt around his torso. His jeans were a bit tighter around his legs than expected but he made do as he exited the bathroom, towelling his short brown hair and brushing it flat. He had considered simply casting an illusion spell over his traditional robes and silver armour, but maintaining that and attempting to integrate with the high schoolers would be too tiring. It felt strange though, not seeing the glittering silver battleplate when he looked down, not feeling the reassuring weight of the cuirass as he walked around the room. Still, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn’t help but grin. He looked pretty good! Aurubar checked the documents Moia had sent him; he would use his standard cover name ‘Ben Archer’ as he had done many times before. He took the documents in one hand and secreted the runestones from Stiles and Jackson into a pocket in his shirt. Sliding on a silver and obsidian ring he felt a surge of shadow power: he would be safe enough against any surprises now. He took a final glance in the mirror before exiting and re-establishing the wards in front of the door.

Jackson was confused. And not just about what to wear on the first day of school; even though it didn’t really matter. He knew he’d look good regardless. No, Jackson wasn’t sure what to do; he had been surprised by the strength of his feelings towards Stiles; stronger than what he had felt for Lydia. But that wasn’t the real source of his worry. Not even the fear of the Alpha pack blotted out the guilt he still held onto. He knew that the Kanima had done terrible things; that he had done terrible things. That was the reason everyone tiptoed around him; casting worried glances when they thought he wasn’t looking, whispering carefully when they thought he wouldn’t hear them. He had seen the meaningful looks Derek shared with his uncle. Jackson hated it, hated every minute of being with them. But it was still better than when he was all alone. Because then the images came. They trickled into the pit of his stomach as he prepared to eat; fractured images of blood and water and death. They invaded his mind and his dreams when he sought to sleep; a horrifying mess of claws and gore and that poisonous voice telling him who to kill and how to kill and when to kill; caressing his mind in its toxic grip. The worst of it came to the fore when he had tried to be with Lydia as they had been before he had been turned. It wasn’t even the images and voice; it was the feeling that came over him when he was with her: repulsion. He couldn’t stand to be with her, couldn’t touch her; couldn’t let her touch him. He wanted to run at the sight of her; almost unleashed his claws and teeth before he saw reason and let her go. 

For all his midnight terrors and inability to be near Lydia, Jackson knew that it was not all the fault of being the Kanima. Even before he had asked for the bite things had felt off; like they no longer fitted together. But he was a star lacrosse player: a super-jock! Together they had status and power and beauty; but it was all false and fake and felt unreal to him. Now apart he felt more alive, more real than ever before. As if he had been freed from Lydia as he had been freed from the Kanima. Jackson had been staring at his reflection for twenty minutes when he was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the bedside table. Jackson picked up and sighed as Stiles’ goofy picture appeared; he really shouldn’t have given him his phone number. ‘Yeah?’

‘Hey Jackson! It’s Stiles.’

Jackson grunted as he finished dressing, ‘Yeah, I know. What do you want?’

‘Uh well, it’s just it’s almost quarter to nine and your car isn’t here, so you aren’t here. And since we were up all night I thought maybe you’d slept in. Uh, not ‘we’ we, but us in general…Yeah. Uh so are you coming to class, buddy?’

Jackson growled into the mouthpiece, ‘One, don’t ever call me ‘buddy’ again. Two…’ He paused as he picked up his keys and shut the front door behind him, ‘I’m about to start driving, so get off the damn line and wait for me.’ Jackson cut the call and instantly regretted adding the last part. He revved the engine and pulled out of the drive.

‘Uh, sure I’ll wait for you…’ Stiles finished somewhat lamely as he realised Jackson had hung up on him. He turned at the sound of Scott’s motorbike pulling into the parking lot and waved at him as he slowed to a stop beside him. ‘Oh hey Scott. Allison.’ Allison had taken her helmet off and swung down from behind Scott. They exchanged greetings and a few words as Stiles explained he was waiting for Jackson. He didn’t miss the meaningful smile between Scott and Allison. ‘Seriously, bro? You told her?’ Scott laughed at Stiles’ face and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders. Just as he was about to reply, a deep roar echoed around the parking lot as a sleek black Audi rolled in. The car is sharp and smooth and puts Jackson’s Porsche to shame as its tinted windows and shiny body come to a stop beside Stiles’ battered old jeep. Stiles looks at his reflection in the flawless hood as the driver door clicks open. He tears his eyes upwards to meet ones of bright shining sapphire. 

‘Hi, I’m Ben.’ Aurubar holds out his hand in greeting to Stiles who gulps and takes it in his own. The shake is solid and strong: surprisingly so. Aurubar grins an easy smile at him and Stiles feels his cheeks heat as he lets go of the teenager’s strong hand. Scott and Allison introduce themselves as Stiles casts a careful eye over the newcomer. He was about average height, obviously worked out, but not so much that it was overbearing. He was tanned and as his shirt collar dipped when he took out his bag, Stiles could see that it wasn’t confined to his arms and face. And what a face! Stiles could feel himself blushing scarlet and a rather uncomfortable bulge forming in his pants as he looked again into Ben’s amazing eyes. Sure Jackson was superhot and he could do that thing with his eyebrows that caused Stiles to melt inside. But this guy? Holy fuck he was both cute and hot; clean shaven with just a hint of stubble around his chin; caramel-brown hair cut short with the fringe gelled up. And that smile? It was megawatt levels of amazing! Perfect, white teeth and the creases that formed under his eyes as he grinned had Stiles floored. 

‘Uh, Stiles?’ Ben had asked him a question and he had just stared at him. Stiles shook his head and then nodded as Ben laughed at him quietly and Allison and Scott just stared at him.

‘Um, yeah? Sorry I wasn’t really listening. Short attention span, you know?’ Stiles rabbled onwards as Ben’s smile began to fade, ‘not that you’re not worth listening to, or anything. Uh.’ Stiles looked away from him towards the school.

‘It’s ok, I was just wondering where the office was? New kid and all.’ He laughed again as Stiles turned to answer him. Another roaring engine cut him off as Jackson’s silver Porsche pulled into his usual spot. Jackson hops out, grabbing his bag as he saunters up to the group. He casts a quick eye over them all coming to rest on the new guy. 

‘Hi, I’m Ben.’ Jackson takes the offered hand and shakes quickly casting his eyes over him as he feels Ben do the same. Jackson ruthlessly stamps down on the feelings of attraction as they seek to uncurl in his stomach; the guy was hot, but he had to control himself. He carefully sniffed the air as Scott told Ben where he should be going for registration. His neck snapped around to look at Stiles who was doing a piss poor job of hiding his attraction to the new guy. Even if Jackson wasn’t able to smell the heavy waves of attraction rolling off Stiles, there was a fairly obvious bulge in the front of his pants. If Ben noticed he didn’t say anything, just smiled at them all and thanked them. Jackson might have been able to repress his attraction to Ben but he couldn’t help the jealousy that steeped into him as he watched Stiles’ eyes trail over Ben’s face and down to his tight fitting jeans as he walked past and up the stairs.

The Inquisitor was pleased at how it was all going thus far. He had introduced himself to the main targets, even got a pretty obvious come-on from Stiles and he felt the strong mutual attraction between himself and Jackson. He stopped at the entrance to the school. ‘Ugh, guys? Did you say go left or right?’ He looked down at them as Allison and Scott moved up beside him, not missing the mutters and glares of Jackson and Stiles behind them. It was pretty obvious Jackson was jealous of the way Stiles had been looking at him, and that bulge at the front of Stiles’ pants still hadn’t gone down, even with his attempted secretive readjusting. Upon hearing he was unsure however, Stiles bounded up the stairs to stand beside him. ‘I can show you the way Ben.’ 

The Inquisitor cocked an eyebrow at him, ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble, Stiles.’

‘Nah, it’s all good. Finstock won’t mind.’

‘Uh, ok. Thanks.’ They set off down the hallway as Jackson stared after them before muttering and heading off to econ with Allison and Scott.

The Inquisitor and Stiles arrived at the office; ‘Hey, thanks for showing me the way. I didn’t mean to get between you and your boyfriend.’ 

Stiles rolls back surprised, ‘Ugh, no bro, Jackson and me?’ Ben nods, ‘Nope! Just friends, completely friends.’ 

‘Huh, ok. Good to know.’ Ben winks at him as he goes to enter the office. Stiles grins too as he sets off back to class. He can’t really believe it; first Jackson is supposed to be super into him, and now this new guy is making all sorts of come ons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So any feedback on the names would be helpful, since I don't want people confused too much; should I stick to calling the Inquisitor by his title, his real name (Aurubar) or his cover name (Ben)? Thanks for reading!


	5. School and Shadows

The Inquisitor had forgotten how long the school days were; dragging on and yet changing rapidly in a flurry of classes from economics to history to English. He had kept half an ear on the classes waiting to see if they mentioned anything he had been a part of, while the rest of his concentration was on identifying the key players in both werewolf pack and associated to it. He cast a low intensity spell to reveal where each student and teacher had been recently; relevant icons floated just above their heads visible only to him. He soon realised that the Hale pack was larger than he thought. There were three other werewolves sitting amongst them that neither Scott nor Jackson spoke to. They themselves had formed their own little clique and kept away from the rest of them. He saw that Lydia had a strong bond with Jackson until recently when it had been broken in two. Allison had associated with Scott enough that the Inquisitor could see twin icons over her head; the black wolf and the silver arrow. He released the spell as they went to lunch and Jackson invited him to sit with them and he did so, sliding in between Jackson and Stiles. He could feel their runic stones heat in his pockets; their electric frisson attracting and repelling each other oh so nicely; especially when he sat between them. There was tension at the table even apart from the three other unintroduced werewolves sitting at a table in the back. The Inquisitor played the oblivious new guy however, trying to appear nice and friendly. He made several quick witted remarks that had them laughing; yet the tension remained as Lydia refused to look at Jackson and Scott jumped every time someone walked close. Not very noticeably, but the ever observant Inquisitor saw it. 

Just after lunch he had a free period where Lydia was the only face he knew. She nodded at him once before chatting with the people around her. He shrugged to himself and took a seat in the back; far enough to do what he needed but not so far to mark him out as a loner. The Inquisitor began to slow his breathing, closing his eyes he drew power from his ring and gathered it in his right hand. His left was curled into a fist as they ring hungrily drew on his own life energy to supplement its power. He placed his right hand against the wall and poured the power into the building searching out the location of the Seal. A tingling numbness settled through his body as his consciousness split in two; one piece remained within his mind, while the other flowed along his questing surge of power. It took some time but he finally found the echoing response of the Seal’s own power. It was weak, difficult to pin down. He drew even more from the ring and gasped as it sucked the life from him greedily. He had almost found its location when the bell rang shrilly. He unclenched his hand and opened his eyes, the power dissipating around him. He felt eyes on him and looked up to see Lydia regarding him thoughtfully. He grinned at her and swept by on his way to class. 

It was the end of the day and the Inquisitor was walking out to the parking lot as Allison and Lydia caught up to him. ‘Hey Ben!’

He turns towards them, ‘Yeah?’

‘Lacrosse practice is starting, do you want to watch with us, since you’re not trying out?’ They carefully guide him away from the parking lot and towards the playing fields. 

‘Uh, sure, I guess?’

‘Stiles and Jackson play; well Jackson’s co-captain with Scott so…’ Lydia looks at him.

‘Stiles plays?’ Ben looks around, ‘Nice, but ah, I have to speak to Finstock first.’

‘Oh, that’s ok, you can get him after practice. Now come on!’ It was more of an order than an invitation, but the Inquisitor did not wish to appear awkward so he followed them as they chatted and asked him the occasional question. The shrill sounds of a whistle cut through their conversation and the sounds of the coach grilling the team could be heard long before they saw him.

Stiles was panting hard as Jackson overtook him for the second time but almost died of shock when the jock turned towards him and gave a toothy grin. Stiles frowned at Jackson’s retreating head. He couldn’t understand him; half the time he was ice cold towards him, then other times he turned into this super friendly cutesy Jackson. Scott came jogging up beside him as he struggled on; approaching the bleachers and past Coach’s permanently disappointed face. ‘So, you talked to him about last night, yet? Or are you more interested in Ben?’

Stiles frowned at him and panted out a half answer, ‘Huh? No, I-‘

‘He’s certainly interested in you.’ Scott nods towards the bleachers where Ben is sandwiched between Allison and Lydia. He gives Stiles a small wave when he sees him looking. Stiles grinned back and attempts a return gesture when he trips over his own feet and falls flat on his face, although not before twisting his ankle. He winces in pain as he looks over to see Ben smiling. He groans to himself and drops his face into the dirt. Stiles felt strong arms wrap around his middle and comes face to face with Jackson as he was pulled upright.

‘You ok?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’ Stiles tried to walk on before yelping and allowing Jackson to steady him. Stiles blinked as Jackson puts an arm around his waist and checks him over. The whistle blows again and Coach yells at them at length about his terminal disappointment with them all, before dismissing them from practice. Stiles limps off the field, leaning heavily on Jackson’s offered arm. Scott appeared from the locker room already dressed although not showered and takes over from Jackson who grudgingly lets go of Stiles. ‘Thanks man, I got this.’

‘I can bring him home, Scott.’

‘No I need to get my jeep,’ Stiles awkwardly pats Jackson on the shoulder, ‘Thanks Jackson. See you later at Derek’s?’ 

Jackson nods and watches them head off before he enters the almost empty locker room. He pulls off his gear and showers slowly thinking about Stiles. He can’t help a smile creep across his features as he does so. There are voices out in the locker room. It sounds like Coach is talking to someone. Danny calls out his goodbyes and Jackson is all but alone.  
The Inquisitor thanks Finstock and prepares to leave. As he passes through the locker room, Jackson leaves the showers, sauntering slowly to his locker, steam rolling off him and his towel slung low on his hips. ‘Hey Jackson.’

‘Oh, hi Ben. What did you think out there?’

‘Yeah pretty good. Those laps looked killer though.’ He laughs, ‘Although you made them look like the easiest thing in the world. I guess that’s why you look so good.’

Jackson looked at him as he stood there grinning. It wasn’t the first time a guy had come on to him, but never someone this attractive. ‘Uh, thanks. Just working out you know?’

‘Sure.’

Ben came closer to him and Jackson couldn’t deny the swelling of his cock beneath the towel. He breathed in deep and almost tasted Ben’s scent. It was intoxicating and Jackson unwittingly licked his lips. He looked up into Ben’s glinting sapphire eyes as he got very close. Before Jackson could respond however Ben pulled him against his body and kissed him gently. Jackson resisted at first, but by now his cock was obvious and pressed against Ben’s equally evident erection. Jackson loosened up and ran his hands under Ben’s shirt to feel surprisingly hard muscles. He stops resisting and opens his mouth pushing his own tongue inside Ben’s mouth; tasting mildly of mint. Ben pulls back slightly, just as Jackson was getting into it and cradles Jackson’s cheek in one hand; the other on his neck. 

‘I’m sorry Jackson.’ With a surge of runic energy Jackson’s world falls into darkness and the Inquisitor steps back. He draws some of the shadow magic from his ring to his hands and plunges into the depths of the teen’s mind. He presses past the mixed feelings about Stiles and his parents, being a werewolf and part of Derek’s pack until at last he has reached the vault of Jackson’s mind. Therein lays the Kanima and all the memories that even Jackson cannot find. The Inquisitor begins to breach the walls of this hidden place, feeling Jackson’s emotions and memories float around him. He eventually cracks open the vault and steps into a world of black shadows and foul bloodied creatures. The Mindscape is vastly different from reality with the various poisonous memories locked away in little bubbles of foul blackish ooze. The Inquisitor cradles each one carefully plumbing its depths. He relives every moment from the past six months in a shadowy real time sped up; watching the figures moving in a jerking mockery of reality. He watches through Jackson’s eyes as the Kanima is formed and revealed. He sees the forming of the bond of master and servant and recoils in distaste that the Kanima was used for so base a motive as revenge. He had seen other Kanimas before; in the long stretches of his life they had been called many things and been used as weapons for purposes great and small. He shook his head of the memories that threatened to spread and continued to search Jackson’s mind for mentions or sightings of the Seals. There was nothing here; just a sad story and a greater understanding of the man. The Inquisitor turned back and began to exit the Mindscape, cleansing any trace of his presence; resealing the locked memories and lingering only to discover the extent of Jackson’s feelings for Stiles. Satisfied, he released the spell and prepares to revive Jackson. What takes the Inquisitor hours in the Mindscape, takes mere seconds in the real world.

…Jackson loosened up and ran his hands under Ben’s shirt to feel surprisingly hard muscles. He stops resisting and opens his mouth pushing his own tongue inside Ben’s mouth; tasting mildly of mint. Ben pulls back slightly, just as Jackson was getting into it and cradles Jackson’s cheek in one hand; the other on his neck. He pulls back from Jackson and pushes his hands away. ‘Shit. I’m sorry Jackson. I, I didn’t mean to-‘

‘Hey, no, it’s ok.’ Jackson reaches for him, but Ben pulls away muttering about how he has to go. Jackson licks his lips as he watches the other guy straighten up his shirt and hurry out; leaving Jackson even more confused than when he woke up this morning.


	6. The Watcher in the Shadows

The door opened slowly as Chris Argent eased the gun from its holster with barely a sound. He glanced sharply around as he entered; the main lights were out, the only shadows coming from a lamp at the far end of the hall; the moon shining faintly through the gaps in the blinds. There was a half-folded note on the table by the door. He could just make out Alison’s looping handwriting. He sighed to himself; the significance of the written note not lost on him. It was obvious where she had gone: Scott. He frowned as the barely open door of his study caught his eye. He had closed and locked it this morning before he left and Alison was never so obvious. He brought the handgun up to shoulder height and stalked slowly to the door pushing it wide on oiled hinges. It made barely a whisper as he followed it through, sweeping the room left and right. Empty. He frowned to himself and lowered the gun. The room was the way he left it; desk still somewhat messy, blinds drawn half shut throwing the corners into shadow. Argent stopped in the center of the room and went very still. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; the instinctual reaction to being watched. He licked his lips as his heart began to beat faster. He tightened his grip as he swung around to the shadows behind the door. 

There was nothing there. The room was empty.

The Inquisitor watched Chris Argent sweep the study for any presence and looked at him with interest as the hunter pointed the gun right at him, concealed as he was in the shadows behind the door. The gun came within inches of his face, but still the hunter did not detect him. Aurubar smiled to himself as Argent turned away apparently satisfied he was alone. He stood a little straighter and emerged from the corner. Argent had stopped moving again; his gun in its holster was now out of reach. 

‘Good evening,’ the words slipped out as the air behind Argent shimmered and spun as the shadow cloak was dropped, ‘I’ve been waiting your return.’

Argent was silent, still looking away from him. He cocked his head as the older man turned fluidly drawing a hidden gun from somewhere on his desk. ‘No need for that, Argent. I’m just here to talk.’

The gun lowered a fraction as Argent looked at the figure in front of him. His eyes told him a handsome youth of about eighteen stood in front of him, dressed casually in a shirt and jeans. But his gut told him a different story. He felt sick as the illusion in front of him waved back and forth like a bad trip. Behind the man’s smile was cold hard silver; the illusion dropping away to reveal the same youthful figure clad in shimmering silver plate armour, a worn brown cloak falling away from him as he moved into the moon’s faint light. In a swift movement the man leaped at him and wrung the gun from his grasp with a simple twist. His strength was astounding; Argent watched as the gun was taken to pieces before him, the parts scattered over the desk.

‘What do you want? You’re no werewolf, but you’re not a hunter.’ Argent licked his lips again as he circled around, keeping his distance as the man approached his desk.

‘No, I’m not a hunter. At least,’ he grinned, flashing brilliant white teeth at him, ‘not in the way you are.’ Argent regarded him thoughtfully before his eyes opened in realisation. ‘Ah, so you have heard of us! Good. As for why I’m here now? I think you know the answer to that.’

‘The Alpha pack?’ Argent glanced over to the window thinking he saw a shadow pass by. The Inquisitor only smiled as he too looked out the half open blinds.

‘Hehe, they followed you here. Not to kill you. Not yet. Just to know the strength of the local hunter. Once one of the most respected and feared hunter families in all the world, brought low by corruption, death and arrogance.’ 

Argent’s eyes flared as the last word hit him, ‘Who are you to judge us? To judge me?’

The Inquisitor chuckled to himself; ‘Who am I? I am the Inquisition!’ He turned away from Argent letting the words sink in. ‘Tradition dictates that you kneel, but I think we can dispense with that requirement for now.’ He turned back to see Argent’s shocked face. ‘Yes, I am here for the Alpha pack, and a few other things.’

The momentary relief felt by Argent was soon replaced by worry as the ‘other things’ were mentioned. ‘What else are you here for? This is just a quiet corner of the world.’

The Inquisitor gave a short bark of laughter, ‘Hah! Quiet? Hardly; in the last year alone you have faced down a fully evolved werewolf, secrets about your family you wished kept buried, your father’s selfish corruption. And,’ he paused as he remembered the flashes of awareness from Jackson’s buried memories, ‘a monster of untold horror. The first three are irrelevant, but the Kanima? You know of the Inquisition, you could have contacted us. You should have.’

‘You would have just killed him-‘

‘Don’t pretend that you care! You would have seen him dead a thousand times if not for his friends.’ The Inquisitor was angered, his hands curled into fists. 

Argent nodded his head, ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

There was a moment of silence between them as Argent avoided the gaze upon him. It was only feeling the fiery eyes move on that he risked lifting his head. The Inquisitor had moved back to the desk. Argent moved his hands to his holstered gun. 

‘Don’t.’ 

The word was fired at him as the Inquisitor turned to him again. This time his hands were full of black slimy liquid. Argent frowned at him but before he could protest the Inquisitor had closed the distance and placed both hands on the side of his head. Argent screamed in pain as the black liquid spread out from the icy hands with a mind of its own. Electric fire seeped into his eyes, his ears, shot up his nose, wormed its way into his mouth. Every orifice on his face was violated by the creeping black ooze. He felt himself drift into darkness, falling away from the world on a train of black fire, the cold angry eyes of the Inquisitor his last anchor to this world.

The Inquisitor grinned evilly, his hands burned into Argent’s flesh as he broke into the man’s mind. There was no subtle moulding of kindred spirits as there had been with Jackson, no careful intimacy to respect and protect the other party. This was the darkest of runic magic; practiced without the other’s consent. He would use Argent’s life energy to sustain him as he plundered the depths of the hunter’s mind. He searched for the Kanima, finding the memories in the dark recesses, hidden away from everything else. The Inquisitor felt bile rise in his mouth as he relieved Argent’s family troubles. He pushed deeper into the unwilling mind, time lagging in the real world as he shoved open the closed areas. 

There! Finally a mention of the Seals; the memory was an old one. Long buried in the shifting mass of his mind, Argent had spoken to…someone about the integrity of the Seal beneath Hale’s house. The Inquisitor drew even more of Argent’s life into his own in order to smash down the last protections of his mind. In the real world, blood was running down the hunter’s face as vessels burst in his eyes and nose. The Inquisitor finally reached the secret place, extending his hand to touch the shimmering black ball at the center of his mind. Just as he brushed the surface, the Inquisitor felt resistance and then suddenly he was pushed all the way out, his hands released Argent as if he had been burned. He glanced down to his fingers as Argent toppled over onto the floor, his eyes white before going limp. 

The Inquisitor’s hands were blackened and turning brittle. He gasped as they withered and died before him, breaking off into dust as he flexed them. A curse, and powerful too. He gave his wrists a shake and the curse faded into nothing, his hands rebuilding themselves in seconds, the runic power of an amulet shining brightly by his waist. He looked down at Argent, wary to return to the Mindscape to remove his presence. He sighed and drew upon the residual runic power in the now drained amulet. Raising his hands above the hunter’s prone form, the Inquisitor muttered a few harsh sounding words and erased the past fifteen minutes from Argent’s mind. He planted a suggestion that Argent would act upon: ‘Speak to Hale, tell him that the Alpha Pack are the least of his worries.’ 

The Inquisitor yawned, that was more tiring than he had expected, he cloaked himself in shadows and slipped out of the building. He paused as the Alpha watching Argent’s house passed in front of him oblivious to his presence. The curse had been only partly effective; while he still had no idea of the extent of Argent’s knowledge, he did know who had told him. The Inquisitor grinned joylessly; he and Moia would need to talk.

Chris Argent woke up with a start, his head ached, his eyes and nose felt strange as though clotted with blood. He reached up and felt nothing. Standing upright he struggled to remember the past half hour. That man, the Inquisitor, had been here. They had spoken…it was fuzzy. He wanted to know about the werewolves. Yes, he had been given a warning to pass on to Hale. 

The front door clicked shut as Alison called out. ‘Dad? I’m back from Lydia’s.’ 

He moved over to the door and poked his head out; ‘Already? It’s only eight.’

She shrugged as she went down to her room, glancing back just once, ‘She had stuff to do, therapy I think.’ 

Chris nodded and watched her close the door to her room. Back early, eh? That normally meant that there was a pack meeting at the ruined Hale house later. He grabbed his gun and sneaked out, closing the door behind him softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, overloaded with work right now, but got the itch to write some more this weekend! :)


	7. The Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter before getting into the mammoth next chapter :) enjoy!

Stiles released his held breath as he spotted Jackson sitting alone on the steps of Derek’s ruined house. The teen was staring at his hands, perfect head bowed as he toyed with a stray thread from his jeans. Stiles unknowingly licked his lips as Jackson glanced up at the approaching jeep. Stiles swallowed nervously as he killed the engine and opened the door. Jackson was now watching him with his full attention making Stiles somewhat self-conscious as he walked up towards the house. ‘Hey Jackson.’

‘Stiles.’ The one word reply is soft, muted, as if Jackson had been waiting for him but now he was here, didn’t want to speak to him. Stiles stood in front of him for a few minutes, Jackson’s initial eye contact broken as he looked off to the side. Stiles hooked his fingers into his belt unconsciously drawing Jackson’s eyes to his crotch. Both boys swallowed, but only Jackson heard Stiles' echo. A soft smile began to play at his lips and Stiles huffed before sitting beside him on the steps. Close enough for their legs to rub together, but far enough that Stiles didn’t make it obvious.

‘So, um… You’re here early.’

‘So are you.’

‘Yeah, but you were waiting…for someone?’ Stiles wasn’t looking at Jackson, being deliberately vague but he couldn’t hide the beating of his heart. He took a swift glance sideways at Jackson to see another smile emerging from his usual surly expression. Well, he was a werewolf; he could probably even smell Stile’s raging hardon as it pressed against his tight fitting jeans. 

‘Huh, just wanted to clear my head, Stiles. It’s too busy where I live; too many interruptions, too many thoughts in my mind,’ He paused looking into the distance, ‘too many bad memories.’ Stiles looked at Jackson, his lips parted as if to speak. Jackson dropped his eyes and then turned to look at Stiles so close beside him. He sighed gently then flashed a megawatt smile at the confused boy. 

‘It doesn’t matter. Now you’re here, I guess the meeting is going to start soon?’

Stiles nods as Jackson pulls himself upright. He gestures towards the house and waits for Stiles to join him. He sits looking up at the teen, surprised at the sudden change in tone; a few seconds ago it was like he was speaking to the real Jackson, before he put his armour back on. His confident, hot, superior jock armour. Stiles felt his insides squirm as Jackson reached down and offered his hand. Stiles took it quickly and was surprised at the smoothness of his palm. Jackson hauled him upright, holding his hand for a little longer than necessary, before releasing as the sounds of Scott’s bike came revving up into the clearing.

Derek stood back from the glassless window and turned to face his uncle as he spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard.

'You haven't spoken to him yet, I take it?'


	8. Revelations Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be warned some graphic depictions of violence in this chapter; nothing that will harm our dauntless heroes. But the Alphas get hit pretty hard!

‘So when a Mommy werewolf and a Daddy werewolf love each other verrrrrry much…’ Stiles muttered to himself as Derek continued to stutter and stumble his way through the pack meeting’s agenda, ‘then they come together and-‘

‘Stiles!’

He looked up from his hands at the furious expression on Derek’s face; ‘Seriously, Derek? How long are we going to talk about this?’

Derek snorted to himself and looked around at the bored and generally embarrassed faces of the teenagers around him. The whole ‘sex talk’ had been on the agenda for weeks now; Stiles had insisted that they have some sort of organisation or else they would all have to sit there in agony as Derek tried to ‘relate’ to them. That hadn’t exactly worked out.

‘Ugh, just be quiet.’ He turned away from Stiles’ pained expression and resumed, ‘so, um, when there’s this, ah, I guess, uh, mutual attraction, um, between, you know, two people, who, uh, wouldn’t, um, normally, uh, yeah.’ Peter rolls his eyes and Scott looks on with something approaching attention. Derek mumbles on until he realises no one is paying attention, letting his last words trail off, ‘And that’s how werewolves mate with non-were…’

‘Ok I’m calling it there Derek.’ Stiles had pulled himself up from the armchair he had been squeezed into beside Jackson, ‘I think we all know about whatever it is you’re trying to say.’

‘Stiles.’

‘No, Derek. They’re good, they’re real good. Scott has Allison, Isaac and the others have their…thing. And Jackson’s fine; he’s probably had loads of practice! Hell, he should be giving the speech himself, huh, huh?’ He had been gradually closing the distance between himself and Derek, standing as he was against the wall. Coming to a halt beside the Alpha Stiles nudged him in the ribs as everyone else just stared. Jackson half rose from the chair before calling out to the other teen, a flush creeping up his neck.

‘Uh, Stiles?’

‘Yes, Jackson?’

‘Shut up.’

Derek turned away with a chuckle as grins and quiet laughter broke the once tense atmosphere. ‘Ok, let’s drop this for now and get to why you’re all really here.’

The mood changed quickly as the pack closed together; even Erica, Boyd and Isaac came a little closer. Peter stood in the center of the half circle and opened his hand. There was a broken claw on his palm; blood smeared along the root when it had been pulled out. 

‘The Alpha Pack.’ He looked at them all briefly seeing reflections of emotion dash across Stiles face, seeing Jackson tense up and Scott get serious. ‘There’re here, they’ve made themselves known to us.’

‘What do they want?’ Scott asked the obvious question.

‘Death, suffering, pain. They’re not here for the territory, we have nothing they want.’

‘I don’t get it then. Why come here?’

‘They kill because they can, because they need to. They’ve given over to the beast inside. That tug you feel on the full moon, that ache when you force back the change; they don’t do that. They embrace it; let the beast dominate them instead of the person inside. All the ferocity of a beast and all the intelligence of a man. They kill for fun; humans mostly, but other werewolves especially; much more fun, much more of a game.’

Silence greeted Peter after he had stopped speaking. It was probably the most he had ever said to them at once. His eyes had dark shadows under them as he looked out of the broken windows into the star lit night. 

Stiles glanced at Jackson as he fought the urge to hold his hand again; feel the softness of his palm, his firm grasp. There had been little emotion in Peter’s voice as he talked, but there was something about his tone; so cold, so detached, it made him shudder.

Jackson noticed Stiles’ glance, his hitched breathing, the slow drops of perspiration winding down his spine. He felt it; the mutual attraction Derek had talked off, he almost smiled. And then unbidden into his mind came Ben. The way they had kissed just this afternoon; the feel of his tongue pushing into his mouth, the subtle taste of his essence; the hardness of his muscles; of their muscles pressed together. That had been mutual too; maybe more than mere chemistry, there had been such a spark in that moment. Jackson swallowed carefully; willing his cock to go down as every wolf turned to look at him. The blush spread across his face again as they hid their smiles and Derek just muttered about ‘teenagers.’ Thankfully Stiles was still unaware.

‘You ok, uncle?’ 

Peter nods and turns back to face the pack.

‘They’re stronger than us, they’re faster than us and there’s more of them than us. We’ll never take them head on, Derek.’

‘How about one at a time? Divide and conquer?’

‘No, Stiles, even then it’d take all of us attacking at once to have a chance at taking one down. We need an edge. We need a weapon.’ He finished the sentence and looked at Derek meaningfully.

‘No. Absolutely not!’

‘Some hunters train specifically for Alphas. Argent will know if another hunter has been in the area. You saw how it was last night; whoever saved them,’ Peter nods at Stiles at Jackson, ‘was clearly tracking the Alphas. Most hunters avoid a full pack, never mind one full of Alphas.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.’

Stiles looked between the two men and then at the confused faces around him. Another hunter? Realisation hit him as Derek opened his mouth. ‘Wait, you want to use a hunter to kill the Alphas?’

‘See? Even Stiles thinks it’s a stupid idea.’

‘Thanks, I think.’

Peter shrugged as if giving up. ‘Ok then, not the hunters. You got a better idea?’

‘As it happens…’ Derek stopped speaking, tilted his head on one side and stared out the window. Stiles hitched an eyebrow, but then realised everyone else was staring out the window, ears cocked. He sighed and waited. A few minutes later the twin beams of high powered headlights thrust through the trees. Stiles let out a breath; werewolves don’t drive up to their enemy. But who was this?

‘Argent.’ Derek let the name fall from his lips as Stiles looked at Scott, mouthing ‘Allison?’ at him. He shook his head as the werewolves around him tensed up. Jackson pushed him back from the door and stood protectively in front of him. Derek waited just out of reach of the front door as the floor boards outside creaked with footsteps. There was a sharp rap on the door. Stiles glanced at Derek from over Jackson’s shoulder. 

‘It’s open.’

The door creaked open, Chris Argent stood in the entrance; the lights from his car still on, illuminating his silhouette.

‘Thanks. Let’s keep this short.’ He walked slowly to the center of the room, unfazed by the glowing eyes around him. He stood in front of Peter and Derek; one hand resting easily on his holster, the other by his side. ‘I bring a message for your Alpha’s ears only.’

‘You speak to us all or don’t bother.’

‘As you wish, Derek.’ He took a breath; drawing in the faint smell of burnt wood, the rotting fabric, the tension in the air. ‘The Inquisition has come.’

 

‘In the darkness I wait for you. In the shadow I stalk you. In the gloom I find you. And in the madness I bind you!’ 

The chanting was coming from a dark shadow in the warehouse’s rear entrance. The Alpha crouched on the cold concrete floor, staring at the corner with glowing red eyes. Even his enhanced sense of smell could not detect anything amiss. And yet he still felt there was something there. He had heard about what had happened to Sarah in the woods; they had called off the attack on the other pack when she burst back through the trees. It had been the first time he had seen their leader scared; it un-nerved them all. She wasn’t the same wolf; jumping at loud noises, staring into the shadows, avoiding their gazes. She wasn’t fit to lead them anymore: there would be a battle for it soon enough, but he didn’t want any part of it. 

A whisper of sound, the shade of a voice echoed around him. He swivelled on his haunches as through tracking it. The air in front of him shimmered as shadows poured out from a gaping hole in the air. He rose swiftly, claws replacing finger nails and fangs springing from his mouth in seconds. He was fast, but not quite fast enough.

Emerging from the rune portal Aurubar brought up his staff in time to counter the wild swings by the Alpha in front of him. The claws sparked as they struck the silver guard near the head. The wolf snarled and brought his other hand up in a disembowelling motion. Aurubar’s eyes burned silver under his hood as the runes along the staff ignited; the power rolling off him in waves that set the werewolf’s hair on end. His hand was stopped mid swipe; his body failing to respond; his eyes flickered up the armour clad figure in front of him to the burning eyes that held him in a fearsome gaze. With a snarl of his own the Inquisitor threw back his arms and the werewolf tumbled to the ground like a rag doll.  
Muttering the harsh words of his ancient tongue, Aurubar summoned a churning ball of black fire into his right hand. The werewolf watched him, unable to move; eyes wide in fear as Aurubar’s flaming fist continued to burn. Without warning the mutters halted and the Inquisitor thrust his hand down to the frozen figure before him. The black fire splashed against him and he screamed in agony as it burned him alive; his flesh cracking open as it wormed its way into his bones and immolated them. Within mere seconds the writhing form was stilled; his body an unrecognisable mess of charred flesh and smouldering meat.

Aurubar cloaked himself in shadows after dispatching the one sentry; walking calmly towards the center of the warehouse’s main floor. There were dust covered boxes on shelves all around him, but the building had obviously been abandoned for some time. Sitting, standing and crouching around him were the Alpha pack. The lights had all been broken, but several fires illuminated the camp. ‘Ten of them here, plus that one outside. So only two left around town.’ He spoke quietly to himself as he prepared for the battle just moments away. 

He thrust his hands up towards the starry sky poking through a hole in the roof. ‘Lords of the Inquisition, grant me your strength. By the power invested in us by the Keepers of the Seals, let my armour keep me, my blade strike true, my power hold me. By this ancient code I will purge our unending enemy. In this life or the next.’ Finishing his prayer, Aurubar looked up from his clasped hands; his eyes once again burning with silver fire, the shadow cloak falling from him as he drew immense runic power from his staff. 

The werewolves looked up in surprise as a figure appeared before them. They snarled in response as Geralt, the oldest of them cocked his head. Seeing the silver light emitting from the figure’s hood he realised with a start the danger they were in. ‘Run! We must arg!’ His words were cut off suddenly as a wide stripe was slashed across his throat. The silver sword that had cut it materialised in realspace as the Inquisitor created it from the energy boiling around him. It sprung back to his side; impossibly sharp, the air singing as it moved through it. Geralt spluttered, his breath mixing with blood as the mountain ash tainted blade killed him in seconds. 

The remaining pack ran at the Inquisitor, claws extended, fangs bared, hunger and hatred mixing in their red eyes. Aurubar grinned joylessly and doused the fires surrounding the camp, plunging them into darkness. The wolves laugh at this; sensing his presence as much as they need to with his silver eyes and glowing runes. A whirling dance of death ensues, the clash of claws against armour, ripping through old cloth, the smashing of heads by the Inquisitor’s staff; the sudden shrieking of an Alpha impaled on the silver sword. Aurubar wrenches it out dancing around another crude swipe as he fires a blast of blue runic energy into the face of a snarling blonde causing her to recoil; blood spilling from her eyes. He slams the butt of his staff into another’s stomach, before ripping the unfortunate wolf lengthways up his stomach. The runic enhanced blade sliced cleanly through him; his insides spilling out onto the floor in the darkness. 

The leader held back sensing rather than seeing the Inquisitor dispatch her pack. In all too short a time she was alone with him; the bodies around her moaning in agony, lit eerily with the blue flames cast by the Inquisitor. There was no mistaking that scent: he was the one from the forest. She bent low, baring her fangs as he pulled back the blood stained hood. Her eyes widened slightly; he was barely a man, his youthful features paled in comparison to the smouldering light from his cold silver eyes. The flickering blue light from his sword led his face a cruel edge and his confident smirk enraged her even more than the dying bodies around her.

She leapt at him suddenly only to find empty space as he flickered out of sight. She gave voice to her anger in a vicious howl as he reappeared behind her. Delivering a terrible blow with his staff Aurubar twirled away from her back swipe, instead of deflecting the next attack however he stepped in under her guard and plunged the sliver sword into her chest. She howled in agony and gasped as Aurubar dismissed the blade, casting it back into the ether. The burning remained as she looked down into her killer’s eyes. He grinned in a mockery of her snarling and she could feel the vast reserves of his power boiling to the surface. ‘Please,’ she gasped out the question, begging for her life even as she felt blood rising into her mouth. 

Aurubar let the runic energy build in his hands as he prepared the final strike. His hands shook with the contained power; the purplish-blue ball growing increasingly unstable. Before it overpowered him he stood back letting her fall to the floor. She looked up at him, trying to stand again. ‘Beast of darkness, I purge you from this realm!’ With his final words Aurubar unleashed the energy onto her screaming form. It struck deeply and passed through her with remarkable ease. Her voice was silenced as she fell still, wounds inflicted across her body; thousands of tiny but deep cuts as the energy ripped through her. 

The scent of blood was heavy in the air, the last few werewolves twitching feebly or attempting to breathe through shattered windpipes, the spluttering of blood filled mouths. The Inquisitor released his hold on the runic power of the staff and it stopped glowing as did his eyes; their burning light fading back to deep cerulean blue. Aurubar nodded to himself as he surveyed his handiwork. He walked slowly to the center of the warehouse and knelt down; his robes soaked with the extending pool of blood.

Aurubar can feel the throbbing call of the Third Seal. He has found it at last. It was not under the Sheriff’s station as he had first thought. It is weak, almost broken; he can feel the edges of it coming loose. Soon it will break into realspace. He concentrates, feeling the ancient power of the Seal reaching up to his questing mind. Extending a shaking hand he reaches into the Unseen Realm and looks upon the Seal’s cracked surface. It is almost bronze in colour; a dark golden band encircles it; tarnished now. The Seal itself is dented in places; the impacts facing out as if what was held inside was testing its strength.

He feels the tug of its power and then the bitter taste of an illusion spell in front of it. Without a thought he rips the spell away and once secure Seal falls apart. Instead of the cracked surface of the metal, there is nothing but a gaping hole; flashes of red and purple illuminate the raging storm on the other side. The shattered pieces of pseudo-metal have fallen all around the breach. There is a thin film separating realspace from the seething maelstrom within. Yet even still Aurubar can see tendrils of darkness pressing against the weak barrier. He gulps; this was bad.

 

Outside in the moonlight he leans against a tree; the binding ritual had drained him. On times like these he felt all of his centuries press against him. Tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth he clasped his left arm to his chest; his hand slippery with the blood. The second Alpha had swiped at him, cutting through his robes and tearing the flesh underneath. It had been nothing during the fight; but sealing the breach required more than mere runic power and chants to men long dead. The wound was rent open; blood had soaked his robes, spilling down his armour as he performed the rite. But it was successful: the breach had been sealed again. The Inquisition would need to send someone else though to bind it shut.  
He felt himself slipping into darkness; too much blood had been lost. He took a soft shelled stone from his pocket and muttered a final harsh word as he cracked it upon his breastplate. The robes and armour faded from view replaced with the clothes he had worn to school. The blood simply transferred onto the illusion; it was too much to try to hide it. The staff would return to the ether until he needed it again and he fell to his knees. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength the Inquisitor crawled away from the warehouses, out onto the main road.

It had been quiet at the station, no reports to file, no heinous crimes being committed in Beacon Hills for once. So Sheriff Stilinski decided to embrace this new model of ‘preventative policing,’ he had heard about at that last conference in LA. He took the cruiser out along the industrial road; it was pretty quiet here too. Nothing but the abandoned remnants of the once booming city; factories and warehouses lined the street.

He sighed and was about to turn around when something caught his eye. He put the beams on full and swept the street before him. There! The lights glinted off something silver in the brush near an old timber warehouse. The Sheriff pulled over and got out, fishing out his torch and placing a hand on his gun. As he approached he realised that the silver object was a watch on the wrist of a young man. He was covered in blood; still wet. 

Sheriff Stilinski knelt down beside the body, sighing to himself. Great, another murder. He soon snapped out of it when the man heaved a breath and grasped the Sheriff’s shoe.

‘Please, help…argh.’

‘It’s ok, son. Don’t move.’ He rolled the young man over carefully, noting the wound on his arm. ‘This is the sheriff, I need immediate medical to my location. I have a serious injury here, I need an ambulance now!’

‘Copy that.’

‘Hey son, just hang on.’

Aurubar gurgled as blood seeped from his mouth. The Sheriff knelt beside him and cradled his head in one hand as the boyish face grimaced and the deep blue eyes welled up in pain.

‘Ok, can you tell me your name?’

‘Uh, Ben, uh, Archer, argh...’ With each word came a fresh trickle of blood. The Sheriff just nodded and waited for the distant sirens to arrive.

Time dilated for Aurubar; one moment he was face first in the damp grass at the side of the road, the next a police officer was cradling his head and asking his name. His eyes fluttered open again to find the paramedic over him, blood draining from his mouth onto the man’s hands. He was frowning at him in concern. Eyes drift shut again as he is pulled from the ambulance into the bright lights of an ER. Faces pass in a blur around him as his throat opens and closes; filling with blood even as they try to stop it. And then sweet nothing as they finally put him under.

Sheriff Stilinski stood beside Melissa as they looked at the surgeons trying to staunch the bleeding. The young man in front of them had been stripped to the waist; the terrible wounds on his arm were not enough to distract from the other scars he had wrapped around his torso. Evidence of burning, beating, cuts, stabs, slashes and worse adorned his chest and stomach. The two adults stood there even as Stiles and Scott entered the ER.


	9. Revelations Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisitional Lore and Stiles and Jackson get closer.

‘The Inquisition has come.’

The words were greeted with silence as Derek turned slowly to look at his uncle. Stiles pushed past Jackson to stand beside him. No one was speaking, but there was confusion on everyone’s face.

‘Well? Is someone going to tell us what the ‘Inquisition’ is?’ He gave voice to what everyone was thinking, moving forward to stand in the center of the circle, his hands rising to effect air quotes. Derek still refused to speak and Argent hadn’t moved since he came in. Peter glared at the hunter before sighing deeply to himself.

‘Fine, if you’re not here to tell them which one it is, is there any other message?’

‘No, not really. Just know that he’s here, and he’s searching for something.’

‘So, you’ve met?’

‘Of a sort, you know what they’re like; he stuck to the shadows, never see them coming.’

‘Ok, enough with the mysterious bullshit!’ Stiles rounded on both of them, ‘Tell us what the hell is going on!’

Argent nods at Peter, ‘You might as well; I can fill in the gaps you miss.’

‘Then I hope you have a lot of filler: I don’t know much myself.’ He turned away from the pack and walked over to the window before turning back and gesturing to them. ‘Come on, might as well sit back down.’

Stiles sat on the armchair while Jackson hovered near him, before biting his lower lip and squeezing in beside him. He was breathing carefully; trying to mask the sound of his pounding heart. Being so close to Stiles, he could feel his nervous shaking, the twitchiness of his legs, the hot flush creeping up his back as their legs pushed together: thigh to thigh. Jackson leaned back into the seat so Stiles had a little more room, crossing his arms as he waited for Peter to start speaking.

Once everyone had settled down he began to speak. Peter didn’t like talking much, especially after his rebirth, but this was important and he spoke for over an hour. ‘The Lords of the Inquisition was a group, well secret society more so, of hunters. But not just any hunters; their origins stretch back into the mists of time. I first heard of them from my father; he loved that aspect of being a werewolf; the lore of it I mean.’ Peter grinned to himself at the memory.

Argent broke in then, ‘Yeah, the Inquisition predate modern hunters by several thousand years.’ He paused letting it sink in. ‘The earliest recording of them in historic artefacts comes from the Ancient Celts; decorative inscriptions on pots indicate that the terrors of the night; terrors with hairy bodies and massive teeth, standing on both legs, are vanquished by shadowy figures wielding swords and lengths of wood with light coming from the tip.’ 

Peter took back up the narrative, ‘Sounds similar to what I’ve heard. They were said to do battle with evil in whatever form it took-‘

‘Why are you talking about them in the past tense? They’re here now, apparently.’

‘Stiles, it’s a complicated history lesson. Keep the questions to the end.’

‘Fine.’ He huffed and settled back into the chair, close but not quite lying against Jackson, who only smiled to himself.

‘As I was saying, the Inquisition grew from their origins in a single region to spanning the known world. They’ve been hunting our kind since we first appeared; but not just our kind. They are rumoured to pursue anything…supernatural, I guess.’ He looked at Argent.

‘Sure, that’s pretty accurate. From what I know of the modern iteration of the group they focus on hunting down extreme cases; werewolves who go on murderous rampages with kill counts in the hundreds; packs who take no precautions with keeping our existence a secret. Alpha packs. Especially Alpha packs.’

‘No other hunter is capable of taking down an Alpha pack. Even with a big group of heavily armed hunters, people will die.’

‘So that’s why you think we should use him, this special hunter, to take them down?’

‘Yeah Scott, they have powers we don’t.’

‘Powers? Like magic?’

Argent sighed: he knew this part would be a pain; ‘Yeah, pretty much.’ Gasps and snorts of incredulity met this statement, but neither of the older Hales were grinning. 'So you knew?’

‘Peter mentioned a few things earlier, wasn’t sure if I believed him. But I guess he was telling the truth.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ Peter looked around the room, meeting each gaze head on. ‘Make no mistake about it. This isn’t some Hogwarts or Disney magic. This is the real deal.’

Stiles was more surprised that Peter knew about Harry Potter than the presence of magic wielding hunters, but not by much. Peter started speaking again.  
‘Something you probably don’t know however; is that approximately eleven hundred years ago the Inquisition changed drastically. They were engaged in all-out war with our kind; killing hundreds of us, just as we butchered thousands of them. Then suddenly one day it stopped. Both sides stopped fighting and there was peace of a sort. For two years there was no activity; no fighting, no war, no attacks.’

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know exactly; my father wasn’t sure himself, but-‘

‘I can answer that.’ Argent broke in, ‘another group, the Keepers of the Five Seals; guardians against the darkness, fell apart. A war engulfed the world: the human nations fell upon each other in a frenzy of savagery, the supernatural creatures of the world felt their own unnatural darkness drag them towards the broken Seals, while the Lords of the Inquisition sought to track them down. Eventually the last of the Keepers found an Inquisitor of worth to entrust their duty to: the resealing of the Seals, their continued protection of what lies within.’

‘This sounds insane. I’m just going to say it!’ Stiles jumped up as he spoke.

‘Sit down Stiles. You think this is crazy? I’ve come back from the dead; Jackson turned into a lizard man and you’re surrounded by people who can turn into werewolves at the blink of an eye. Seriously?’

Stiles sat back down again, muttering darkly under him breath.

‘So continuing with the history lesson-’

‘Actually, it’d be better to tell them about their abilities, missions, gear, useful things.’ Peter nodded at Derek. 

‘Sure. There are three main ranks within Inquisitional Command,’ Argent spoke quietly as though he was imparting great secrets. ‘There are also two lower ranks: acolyte and apprentice. But you never see them outside their fortress.’

‘Fortress?’

‘Yes it’s in the Alps somewhere. The first rank, the Inquisitor, is moderately powerful; able to take on a full pack with some creative thinking and using specific powers. They never operate alone though: used in groups of three or four they can be pretty dangerous. The second rank, the High Inquisitor, is the most common one you’ll meet. They operate alone, are well armed and armoured, using a combination of runic power and martial skills. They tend to be masters of the Shadow Arts; able to cloak themselves in shadows, alter their appearance and use shadow energy as a weapon. The final rank is that of Grand High Inquisitor, of which there is only one. From what I’ve heard he makes all the decisions of the Inquisition and is responsible for maintaining their secrecy.’

‘Wow, ok, so what about numbers? How many are here?’

‘They probably only sent the one, I don’t really remember what he looked like, I guess it could be a woman, but it’s too fuzzy. It was definitely a High Inquisitor though and immensely strong. They’re a small group now; only about fifty all told. They never recovered their numbers after the Second Breach two hundred years ago. This is only a rumour, but it makes sense to me; they don’t age. They are exactly the same age as they were when first raised from apprentice. The majority I’ve met were pretty old, but I was told that age does not equal rank.’

‘Why is he, or she, here?’ Derek took charge of the Q&A session; firing them out hard and fast as Argent and occasionally Peter answered.

‘They could be here for the Seals; or the Alpha Pack. But he did mention that the attention drawn here over the last few months; Peter, the Kanima, all the death, not the good kind of attention. Each of the World Seals is anchored to the world by a set of three smaller Seals. They have to be maintained or there will be a Breach. Since only the Inquisition now have the knowledge to do so, they spend the majority of their time checking the integrity of the Seals.’

Stiles began to zone out as Derek asked increasingly mundane questions about the lore and secrets of the group. Instead Stiles focused on the heat rolling off Jackson behind him, the way the jock had placed one arm on either side of the couch. Stiles licked his lips carefully and slowly leaned backwards until his head rested comfortably against Jackson’s biceps, enlisting a soft sigh from his lips. Jackson grinned as he ruffled Stile’s short hair fondly. 

All too soon Derek clapped his hands and they both sat up straight, pulling away from each other. ‘Ok, I need to think about our next moves and how we’re going to deal with the Alpha Pack. We can’t just hope that this Inquisitor will take care of them for us. Be careful and stay together. Go home.’ With that the meeting was over and Argent hurried out.  
Slowly they drifted apart as farewells were exchanged and Stiles hovered around near the parked cars. Jackson nodded at him before getting to his car; Stiles nodded energetically back before dropping his grin as he turned away from the jock. 

Jackson sat in his car, hands clutching the steering wheel. He looked over at Stiles, waiting by the Jeep for Scott. He thought back to the meeting a few minutes ago and sighed to himself. He opened the door and turned back to see Stiles looking and him. ‘Hey, Stiles, come here.’ He gulped nervously, this was different from how he usually acted; guys and girls came to him, not the other way round.

‘Jackson?’

‘Ah, follow me. Away from the others.’

‘What about the Alphas?’

‘They’re not here. Besides I’ll protect you!’ He flexes slightly as Stiles grins at him.

‘Oh, yeah, like you protected me last night?’

Jackson just looked at him before pushing him against a tree.

‘Wait, wh-what are you doing?’ He couldn’t help from licking his lips as Jackson came closer to him. He was grinning; a true smile that brought crinkles to his eyes. Their foreheads were touching now, their legs intertwined and Jackson put one hand around Stiles’ waist.

‘This.’ With a soft word, Jackson pressed his lips against Stiles and kissed him gently. Stiles closed his eyes as he felt Jackson press against him; he responded slowly, savouring the initial pressure before opening his mouth a little to let Jackson in. Surprisingly for Stiles Jackson held back, preferring instead to run a hand under his shirt and across his chest to clasp his neck and collar bone. Jackson opened his mouth in return and Stiles let his arousal take over, feeling his cock rising fully, his tongue invading Jackson’s mouth as he let himself lower onto Jackson’s thigh pushed between his open legs. Just as he was getting into it, he felt Jackson pull back.

‘Ok, go easy Stiles.’ He took a step backwards and looked at Stiles’ flushed face and rumpled clothes, ‘I don’t want this to be some quickie in the woods. I like you, a lot. And I guess you do to. But I want this to be a real thing, if that’s cool with you?’

Stiles looked up into Jackson’s face; it was not quite dark enough to hide the fact that Jackson looked honest. It was in that moment with the moonlight reflecting off his glowing blue eyes, throwing half his face into relief, that Stiles realised it was more than mere lust that drove his attraction to Jackson. There might be something there, maybe.

‘Sure, uh…’

‘Stiles! Stillllllles?! Where are you bro?’ They heard Scott call out his name.

‘We better get back. You go first.’ Jackson said as he straightened Stiles’ shirt, and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘See you at school.’

 

Scott was waiting at the car for Stiles when he rushed out of the trees near Jackson’s car. ‘Hey man, there you are.’ Scott looked his friend over as they climbed into the Jeep. ‘You ok?’

‘Yeah! Fine!’ Scott raised an eyebrow and took a discrete sniff. ‘Hey dude, no sniffing me, that’s just creepy.’

‘You were with Jackson! As in making out with him, not just all over him at the meeting!’

‘Oh come on!’ Stiles glanced over as they made their way onto the forest road, ‘Was it that obvious?’

‘Pretty much, bro. But you got him, right?’

‘Fuck yeah!’ Stiles punched the air as Scott grinned at him. They were interrupted as the police radio in the car burst into static and then a series of frantic exchanges between the Dispatcher and the Sheriff; the latter calling for medical and assistance. Stiles looked at Scott and increased speed as cell reception around Derek’s was strangely non-existent.  
They pulled out onto the main road after a few minutes and Scott dialled the Sheriff’s number, holding the phone between them.

‘Yeah, Scott?’

‘Hey Dad, it’s me, just driving at the minute, Scott’s holding the phone, don’t need the lecture.’ Stiles shot out the first sentence at high speed, ‘Just heard over the scanner, are you ok?’

The Sheriff sighed on the other end of the line, ‘yeah, I’m fine. I’m at a scene where a kid got seriously hurt.’

‘Anyone we know?’

‘Doubt it. He said his name was Ben Archer. Is he in your school?’

Scott and Stiles look at each other in shock.

‘Stiles?’

‘Yeah, I know him. He’s new here, just today in fact. Was he attacked?’

‘I guess so, he’s being stabilised here before being transported to the hospital.’ There was a pause on the line as the Sheriff seemed to be in shock, ‘Does he have any family do you know?’

‘Ah, I think he said he had a brother, but I don’t remember him mentioning parents. Maybe he’s in foster care or something?’

‘Not with the car he drives, Stiles. Did you see that this morning? What a beast!’

‘Maybe a rich family like Jackson’s then?’

‘It’s ok, son. I’ll deal with it when I get there. Ok, I have to go. They’re moving him now.’

The Sheriff hung up and Scott looked at Stiles. ‘We can swing around if you want?’

‘Yeah. I’d like that.’ Stiles had gone paler than usual; he had made friends with Ben pretty easily and liked him, despite his blooming relationship with Jackson Stiles felt he at least owed it to the guy to be there, especially if he didn’t have any parents.

They made the journey easily, parked and entered the ER. Scott pulled Stiles along until they saw their parents standing near an observation window.

‘How is he?’

‘Stiles!’ The Sheriff frowned at his son, even as he pressed up against the glass; his eyes taking in Ben’s stripped torso and the feverously working doctors. One moved aside and he gasped at the carnage wrecked upon Ben’s arm. The skin had been rent open, not merely cut or scraped but pulled open; the tendons and muscles of his arm visible amid an ocean of blood.

‘What’s going on?’ His voice cracked with emotion.

Melissa came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, ‘Stiles, Scott. They can’t stop the bleeding; his blood just isn’t clotting. There are no medical records available for him, no evidence of drugs in his system. We’re waiting on a more thorough test, but he’s losing blood faster than we can transfuse it. The damage is just too much. I’m sorry about your friend.’

The Sheriff gave her a look and took both boys back to the waiting area. ‘Ok I need you tell me everything you know about this guy.’


	10. Patterns in the Blood

‘So you’re alive. Good.’

Aurubar woke up suddenly, eyes springing open as the lazy drawl reached his ears. The mixing of accents were unique to only one person he knew; Tarus. He grimaced as the man approached him, feeling the muscles of his arms flex and stretch as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He grunted as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.

‘What are you doing here?’ He managed the words with difficulty, dry throat rasping as he drew a breath. ‘Did she send you?’

Tarus inclined his head as he sat in the bedside chair, his long black hair failing across his eyes. He wore a casual suit, the tie drawn out and top button popped. ‘You didn’t report in. We all felt the shift…’ He paused as a nurse entered. She smiled softly upon seeing Aurubar awake and went back out promising to return with the doctor.

‘Tarus, I tried to close it. The Seal, I mean. It was broken, completely shattered, I tried, I…’

‘It’s ok Aurubar.’ Tarus soothed him as he took a quick glance up to see if they were still unobserved. ‘We need to talk about this in private. I’ve been staying at your house here. I also managed to recover your armour before the illusion wore off.’

‘Was it damaged?’

‘Not beyond repair. I’ve sent it on to Rexar. She said she’ll look at it for you. Until then you’ll have to rely on the Shadowclad.’ 

Aurubar sighed to himself; weighty, uncomfortable and irrationally slimy, the Shadowclad was never fun to wear. Still he had more pressing concerns then what he would be wearing. As he opened his mouth to speak again a group of doctors entered the room. He saw a flash of tan clothing outside the window and turned his head to see the Sheriff and his deputy outside.

‘Something I should know?’

‘It’s nothing, I guess they have some questions about what happened.’ Tarus looked at him meaningfully as he got up. ‘I’ll leave you with the doctors. I’ll go get some coffee, ok?'

Aurubar nodded and watched him leave. The doctors gathered around him with a somewhat confused expression shared among them. The oldest of them stepped closer. ‘Glad to see you’re awake, Mr Archer.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, it’s just that after the amount of trauma you’ve suffered we didn’t expect you to recover so fast.’

He shrugged, ‘What can I say? My family has always been fast at healing.’ They stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

‘Uh, right. Well, uh.’

‘Is that it?’

‘For now, uh, you should get some rest.’

‘When can I leave? Today?’

The other doctors shuffled out of the room as the elder woman stood beside him, ‘I don’t think so, Ben, you lost a lot of blood and the transfusions wouldn’t take, so we’ll be keeping you here for the next week at least.’

Aurubar looked up at her, judging the extent of her knowledge of his wounds. He could feel the familiar tug of runic power coming from his ring on the bedside table. He drew on it ever so gently and looked into her eyes; muttering the words of the incantation under his breath.

‘Huh? Did you say something Ben?’

‘Alar-Mac, Devin Trut…You will release me into my brother’s care in two hours hence.’ With the final words he clenched his fist feeling the spark of power flow upright into a bond between himself and the woman. Her eyes went unfocused and she nodded dumbly repeating the words to him. He smiled to himself and then opened the bond, drawing upon her life energy sucking a portion of it back into his own form, his eyes igniting as the power flowed into him. Feeling refreshed he released her from his hold, his eyes fading back to their original colour.

‘Ah, oh my, I’m quite tired. If you’ll excuse me Ben?’

‘Uh, Dr Richards? Will you be releasing me today?’

‘Oh yes of course. I’ll let your brother take you home around noon.’ With that she tottered out of the room slightly off balance.

Aurubar reached over and slipped the ring back onto his finger; feeling the power flow back into him, reconnecting with him with his inherent source of runic power. As he smiled to himself there was a rap on the door. He looked up to see the Sheriff walk into the room; he sensed a strong mind in front of him; difficult to fool when he was so weak. Instead he decided to answer the questions posed to him.

 

The Sheriff stood in front of the young man propped up in the bed, his arm bandaged and looking remarkably unscathed despite his near fatal condition only two days before. He gestured to his deputy to stand at the door and looked questioningly at Ben. The man nodded and the Sheriff sat down next to him.

‘No need to be getting concerned, Ben. I can call you Ben right?’

‘Sure. What’s this about?’

‘Uh, it’s nothing too worrisome really. Just a standard follow up after someone has been attacked.’

‘Attacked?’

The Sheriff paused confused, ‘You’re not aware of how you got your injuries?’

‘Uh, no. I thought it was an animal or something. From the way the doctors were talking it doesn’t seem possible that the damage inflicted was the result of a person.’

‘You’re very matter-of-fact about this.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Ben turned away from him but continued to speak. ‘I guess by now you’ve seen my file. I’m not exactly a stranger to violence, sir. My family, well, the less said the better.’

‘Yeah, I read it. Legally emancipated, huh? That can’t be easy.’

‘It’s better than the alternative sir.’ Ben turned back to him, a glint of resolve in his eyes. ‘In any case Sheriff, I don’t remember anything that happened that night. It’s all just a blur. I see flashes now and then, but I’m not even sure what was real and just my imagination.’

The Sheriff sat up at this, he had been very suspicious about the rapid increase in Beacon Hill’s murder rate over the past year. ‘Can you describe any of these…images?’

Ben looked at him strangely, ‘Um, there were flashes of blood and mud. I saw your face and the inside of the ambulance. And…’

‘And?’

He laughed nervously, ‘Uh, nothing else.’

‘Really? Look, if you’re afraid, we can protect you.’

‘Oh, no it’s nothing like that, it’s just embarrassing. I was thinking of someone right before I passed out.’ The Sheriff grunted non-committedly as Ben continued, ‘It’s silly really; only met him that one time.’

‘Ah, right, well.’ The Sheriff got up and turned to leave, ‘If you recall anything else, please contact us at the station.’ Ben nodded as he watched the Sheriff leave.

The Sheriff gestured to his deputy to follow him out of the room. ‘Did you ask him about the bodies in the warehouse?’

‘No, of course not! We’re keeping that quiet until we know what’s going on. They weren’t even from here, and there’s no crossover between them so far.’ The two officers left earshot and Aurubar settled back into the bed waiting for the discharge papers.

 

Derek and Peter stood behind some bushes outside the warehouse covered in police tape. The technical team had just finished up and a lone deputy was standing outside the access point. The mangled bodies had been taken away before Derek could get close enough to examine them, but both wolves could smell the heavy scent of death hanging around the building. They could almost see the shape of the Alpha pack members as they were removed. Their shared look conveyed the sense of unease each felt as they surveyed the damage the Inquisitor had wrought. 

Derek signalled to Peter and they both stealthily approached the rear entrance of the warehouse, slipping into the building unseen by the deputy. They closed their eyes letting their enhanced sense of smell take over and unveiling the scenes of the previous evening. They walked past the first kill, smelling the surprise of the sentry, the unbridled hostility of his attacker, the sharp tasting scent of mountain ash filling their lungs until they blink their eyes open. Further on into the building they venture until at last they are at the center of the battle. The pools of blood had dried to deep red-black patches spread around the floor. The echoes of the battle could barely be smelt anymore; there had been too many cops here since.

Instead Derek and Peter focused in on the center of the room. Here was an undeniable smell of pain and blood. There was a aura of great peril around them; they could each feel it in the bowels of their stomach; the icy cold hand of fear grasping them in its iron grip. Derek swallowed audibly, ‘What is that?’

‘Evil. Danger. There’s something terrible beneath us. That’s what drew the Alpha pack here.’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘There’s a Seal here.’

‘Oh shit.’

‘Exactly. We should leave; I can already feel the draw from it.’ Derek looked at him strangely, ‘Can’t you feel it? It’s almost like I can taste it; delicious.’

‘Uh, let’s just get his scent and leave.’

‘Sure, sure.’ Peter muttered to himself, barely able to pull himself away from the source. They moved slightly towards the door where the Inquisitor’s scent was cleaner although more bloodied. ‘He was injured, but not by the Alphas. It smells like odour of the Seal; there’s a lot of blood.’

‘So? Won’t that make it easier to track?’

‘Inquisitors ingest mountain ash and wolfsbane as part of their first defence against us. That’s why biting them is often fatal. It also causes difficultly when trying to track them by blood; when it’s still fresh and wet, it’s effectively poisonous.’

‘Your father told you all that?’

Peter nods as he leans closer to the ground. 

‘Well? Do you have it?’ Derek asked his uncle as the man knelt down to sniff the floor.

‘Yeah, it’s faint but unmistakable. He smells of old wood, fire and death. And something else.’ He stood up, eyes wide in surprise.

‘What is it?’

‘He smells of Jackson.’

 

‘So how’s this?’ Jackson looked over at Stiles in the passenger seat of his sports car.

‘Looks fine to me, I guess.’

They had pulled up in the wealthier part of town and Stiles was beginning to feel seriously underdressed. Sure Jackson looked casual in his shirt and jeans, but it wasn’t as if people would be looking at anything but his face. Stiles on the other hand, hadn’t even changed from his school clothes. When Jackson suggested that they go out on a ‘real date,’ he had readily agreed, sticking close to the jock for the entire day, earning some strange looks from Lydia and Danny. While Jackson went home to get ready, Stiles just sat in his room fidgeting for two hours, pacing up and down, occasionally calling his Dad to see if any progress had been made on the Archer case. 

Stiles knew that he liked Ben, but he also knew that if he turned down Jackson he’d never forgive himself. Plus after all these years of lusting after Jackson and seeing him with Lydia a few months ago, he never thought they could actually be together. The very thought of kissing Jackson made him hard, he could taste the sweetness of his lips, the hardness of his body pressed against him. Stiles was practically drooling at the mouth when Jackson pulled up outside his house.

For his part, Jackson had spent an equally disturbed afternoon. Although this was less because of his upcoming date with Stiles and more as a result of what had happened to Ben. Hearing from Stiles that morning that Ben had been attacked by some mystery predator, Jackson had felt a strange desire to leave class and go to the hospital to…what? He didn’t even know himself, but the urge was so strong he felt himself jerk forward after Stiles and Scott had talked about it in hushed voices at the back of Finstock’s class. Going out with Stiles, especially after kissing him, seemed to be the cure for his attraction to Ben. Or at the very least Jackson felt he could replace his desire for the new guy with the obvious lust he felt from Stiles. It was complicated and muddled and totally fucked up. He tried not to think about it.

Outside the small restaurant the boys got out and looked into the pleasant and quiet interior. ‘Looks nice.’

‘It is. Trust me.’ Stiles nodded and followed Jackson in. It didn’t seem to matter that he was with a guy; the jock was just as confident. Stiles was instantly jealous of the ease with which Jackson steered him into a booth in the back. The evening went slowly but comfortably with both of them talking quietly and openly about all that had happened in the last year. Stiles was relieved to see Jackson smile and laugh in a real and honest way; not the snide smiles or false laughter he plastered onto his face when he thought he should be amused. Stiles loved how the genuine pleasure reached up into Jackson’s sparkling eyes; he felt his own face grin in response. 

They talked for hours before lapsing into silence after eating dessert. Jackson looked over at Stiles, grinning at the smudged chocolate around his lips.

‘What? What’s funny?’

‘Huh, huh. You’ve got a bit…’ He gestured around his mouth and Stiles tried to wipe it off.

‘Did I get it?’

‘Not even close.’ Jackson leans across the table, ‘Allow me.’ He catches Stiles by the chin and licks his lips gently before pulling back to grin at him. ‘Mmmmh! Chocolaty!’ Stiles sputters in response and pulls Jackson up from the table.

‘Come on! Pay the bill and let’s go!’

‘Wait, why am I paying the bill?’

‘Uh well, you’re rich. And you asked me out, so…?’

Jackson sighed and couldn’t stop himself from grinning, ‘Fine. Go wait by the car.’

They ended up back at Stiles’ house; Jackson didn’t want Stiles to meet his parents who had decided to spend more time at home to be with him, prompting him to avoid them whenever possible. Stiles had assured him that the Sheriff was working all night on the Archer case. He noticed that the mood had sunk considerably after bring up what had happened to Ben.

‘Do you like him, Stiles?’

‘Huh? What? I’m here with you?’

‘Yeah but you practically fell over yourself to get close to him when you met. You’re telling me you’re not into him?’

Stiles squirmed uncomfortably against Jackson’s arm, wrapped around him as it was, the T.V. playing softly in the background. ‘Uh, does it matter if I like him? I love you.’ He stopped after saying that as he felt Jackson pull back. ‘Uh, wait, no. Not like that. I mean…’

‘Hey, it’s ok.’ Jackson shushed him, ‘Ah why don’t we leave declarations of love until the second date at least?’ He smiled at Stiles and pulled him closer.

‘I’ve been watching you for a long time. I never thought I’d actually be with you.’ Stiles snuggled closer to Jackson, turning around and burying his head into the crook under Jackson’s arm. There was silence as Stiles mentally replayed what he just said. He pulled his head back out and looked up at Jackson, ‘That came out wrong. I meant-‘

‘I know what you meant.’ Forestalling any future babbling from Stiles he pulled him upright until their faces were close. Leaning in and letting his emotions take over, Jackson kissed Stiles. They lay together on the couch; a perfect moment of calm before the maelstrom that would soon engulf all of Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going on vacation until the end of July. Will resume updating in August. Hopefully it will be a restful but productive four weeks! No internet though :(


	11. The Inquisitor's Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This focuses mostly on the Inquisition side of the plot, but the next chapter should deal with more Teen Wolf elements.

‘I remember a dream I had. It was many years ago. There was a man striding confidently through an autumn forest. He was shrouded by the night, only the glinting of moonlight through the trees gave any indication of his face, the nature of his clothes, the strength in his form. He came closer to me where I stood in the shadows. Closer and closer he comes, and still I can’t see his face. He is right in front of me before he stops; mere inches from reaching out and touching him. He stands there for what seems like an age. We both do. Standing and staring at one another. The moon shifts until at last his face is revealed. The sharp glowing blueness of his eyes, the unnatural growth of hair marring an otherwise perfect face, the bulging mouth parts to reveal the sharp primitive fangs. I do not need to look down to see that his hands are splayed out, the nails at the end replaced with dagger-like claws...’

‘And?’

‘I was not completely honest when I told you that these Seals were weakened from the bloodshed split over Beacon Hills these past few months. I am the sole Inquisitor charged with monitoring their integrity, but I have long felt the pull of this place. I came here to satisfy a craving I have not felt in over a thousand years. The currents of time have gathered here, bunched together as coils of rope-‘

The two Inquisitors present with Aurubar looked at each other as he continued to ramble on about currents, destinies and long dreamt visions. Moia’s face was displayed on the distorted screen before them, candles in the background lent the air a bruised quality as their smoke trails gathered in the low ceilinged room. Tarus stood just behind Aurubar who was sitting forward on a sturdy wood stool. They locked gazes and let him speak, communicating silently. 

Aurubar realised they had stopped listening to him and stood up. ‘Ok. I’m going out. You two can stay here and stare at each other until the world ends, I still have a job to do.’ Moia nodded at Tarus before cutting the call. 

‘Hey wait up. You’re barely recovered, you can’t just go out chasing monsters!’

Aurubar just looked at him, eyes narrowed as he pulled a coat over his aching arm. ‘I’m not saying I feel fine, but this can’t wait.’

‘I know.’ The older man paused before shrugging, ‘Fine. You go, I go.’

‘No. I work best alone. Especially after what happened in Egypt, it’s best if I’m not...responsible for someone else.’

‘Huh, I’m no mere acolyte, Aurubar, I can fight my own battles. I can protect myself as well as others.’ He pulled on his own coat and holstered a large handgun by his hip. ‘What? Some new weapons are useful.’

‘Fine, just keep up. I won’t wait for you.’

Aurubar could feel Tarus’ eyes boring into him as they left the house, his sudden change in tone had alerted the older man; he could almost taste the tension in the air. He got into the passenger seat of his car and gestured to Tarus to drive. He grunted and started the engine; his eyes watchful, alert. Aurubar realised that Tarus was less interested in watching for werewolves than he was for watching the Inquisitor. Although after Egypt, well, it wasn’t surprising no one in the Order trusted him.

 

Five months previously

There was something magical about the pyramids at night; their crumbling stones and sand whipped forms could not stop Aurubar from remembering how they had stood thousands of years before; gleaming white in the sunlight, their limestone shells a testament to the strength of men and the vision of a god. 

A gentle rustling from the bushes beside him brought him back to reality as a sigh came from the same direction. ‘How much longer, Auru?’

‘Silence acolyte! They’ll be here soon.’ A young woman, barely out of her teens emerged from the shrubs and stood beside him. They were similar in height and appearance although there seemed to be a great stretch of time between the two. Aurubar stood as though he had seen this all before and had become bored by it, while the female had adopted a more excited air; glancing around her at first and then staring up at the vastness of the pyramid in front of her. 

‘Glorious isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, I mean I read about, but never thought I’d see it.’ She looked over at her mentor and saw his eyes glowing under the cowls they both wore. ‘What is it? Are they here?’

Aurubar strode forward, gesturing to her as he went, ‘Yes. Over there by the settlement’s edge. They mean to flank us; cover the right.’ He turns to address her once before vanishing into the shadows, ‘Just stay out of sight and wait for my command.’

She nodded, a small gasp leaving her mouth as he effortlessly folded into the runic shadows. She had tried that spell so many times after seeing Aurubar demonstrate it for her, but could never quite hold herself in there. The shadow cloak was tight across her skin, its waving tendrils clawing at her throat, the whole world cast into a stark noir light. She had heard in whispered conversations in the fortress’s forgotten corridors that only the most advanced inquisitors had mastered the shadow arts. It made her shudder to think of him moving through the darkened world so at ease with it all.

Aurubar passed close to the Alpha feeling her raw aggression pulse in the air. Standing behind the group of Alphas he cast a simple spell, a muttering of soft words and the quiet draw of power until their origins were revealed to him. He paused; they were American. Not all of them, but their scent was heavy with it, the smells of pine and smoke, airplane fuel and plastic. They had travelled far for the relic. He watched as a man came out of the shadows to his left flanked on either side by two machine gun totting muscle heads. Aurubar smiled grimly to himself anticipating a fight. The lead Alpha strode out to meet the man, her hair blowing backwards as the wind picked up around them. She held out her hand and beckoned him. He stood his ground, his men tightening their grips on the guns. He opened his jacket a revealed the golden orb hidden beneath. 

Aurubar’s eyebrows raised in surprise; he thought this was merely another wild chase, another dead end. But no, soon Anubis’ Eye would be his at last. The deal had been struck and the two parties backed off; the Alpha held the shinning orb in both hands thrust out in front of her, while the dealer walked slowly backwards briefcase in hand. Aurubar dismissed the man; he was unimportant. The Alpha had come back to stand facing her pack; Aurubar gathered the power in his hands, ready to kill her once and for all. He felt the pull of the relic: the power locked within calling out to him. He grinned wolfishly and prepared to strike. Deep in his core he felt the rising bile and nausea that signalled the release of the corrupted Seal power. He fought it in vain and felt it consume him slowly until all control of his body was wrenched from him. His eyes alone witness to the horrors he was about to commit.

The acolyte watched it all from her hiding place; saw the meeting, waited anxiously for the exchange and breathed a sigh of relief once they both walked away. All that was left was to aid Aurubar when he called. Unfortunately she was so attentive for his sign, she failed to notice the youngest Alpha sneak up on her.

His eyes glowing white; the burning wrath of his fire chased the pack from the base of the pyramid; the leading Alpha had taken one look at him emerging from the darkness, eyes aflame and a roaring thunder from his foaming mouth and fled; the orb dropping from her hands as she ran. It rolled gently down the hill; flashes of light and darkness reflected in its glistening shell. It came to a stop beside the acolyte’s semi-conscious form as the air was rent with shrieking winds and bolts of lightning. Soon all was quiet save for the panting breaths of the young Alpha. 

Aurubar drove the base of his staff into werewolf’s chest and ended his cries. Sighing with displeasure he made his way to the young woman’s side. She had bled a lot; the white of her robe covered in it, the once gaping wounds drying up and stitching back together. Aurubar narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The glint of gold made him roll her over mercilessly and he saw the fiery beam of light between her hand and the orb. With a shout of rage he kicked her away from the orb. 

‘You! You would steal this from us!’ He roared at her as she woke, her eyes fluttering into fear as he snarled at her. 

‘Please, Auru-‘

‘Bah!’ He let her stand, drawing on his vast pool of power before turning back to her, ‘No one steals from us!’ Thunder crashed and lightning rent the sky above as the Inquisitor brought his hands together; a black ragged ball of fire exploding from his fingertips. The howling sound of a million voices cried out over the long stretch of seconds as she watched the ball come towards her. Time slapped back into place as she collapsed in a heap. 

Watching Aurubar stand over her, the shadows surrounding his smouldering eyes, she remembered the fear his name had wrought among the acolytes; a fear she had not shared. Now as he stood pulling he recently absorbed power from her bones she could feel its icy grip close over her spine. Soon there was little left but ash and burnt rags. 

 

Present day

‘Where next? Aurubar?’

Aurubar started as Tarus turned to him. The memories of that terrible night still haunted him when he least expected it. As Guardian of the Seals he had felt the darkness in him before, but never so strong; the anger that dominated his mind, his actions on that dark night: the result of a broken Seal mere months before. A Seal he had sacrificed hundreds of lives to restore. Oh the Inquisition had members who could do it with powerful artefacts, but Aurubar knew that the only way to keep them shut was to feed what lay on the other side. It was the one secret he had never shared with them; the knowledge was a heavy burden to carry and the guilt that came with it was his alone to bear.

‘Aurubar!’

‘Huh? Oh, keep driving, go into the woods. Yes over there.’ He pointed to a dirt road and the car veered wildly to get onto it. ‘Take it easy!’

‘Hey, you’re the one with his mind in the clouds. If you want this to work you might want to get in the game.' Tarus glanced over at him, his expression softening somewhat. 'And forget what I said about Egypt; it wasn’t your fault she died.’

‘Sure.’  
They travelled in silence until Aurubar gestured for him to stop. ‘Ok, the Hale house is up ahead. Chances are they know we’re here so be careful. Your scent will be masked when you’re near me. But they’ll sniff you out soon enough.’

‘Why me? You’re the Guardian.’

‘The Seal is there, trust me, I can feel it from here. I’ll use the Shadowclad and back you up if need be.’ Tarus grimaced but got out of the car as Aurubar stood upright. He watched the younger man stretch and suddenly felt the rush of power beside him. A faint metallic taste entered his mouth as he turned away from the waving, distorted air in front of Aurubar. Turning back to face him he was confronted by the snarling vestige of a gargoyle’s twisted nightmare; a thick black liquid spreading out from the mouthpiece and covering the straining, bulging carapace and down further to the armour clad legs and feet. Aurubar raised a slime covered gauntlet and pointed through the trees to the ruined house. Tarus reached into the shadowscape and pulled forth the Inquisitor’s staff, watching as sparks rained down from it as it re-entered realspace. He handed it to Aurubar and without another word set off quickly towards the house.

 

Peter and Derek had spent the afternoon with Jackson under the auspices of teaching him how to better control the shift but secretly trying to get him to tell them who the Inquisitor was. Derek was getting frustrated and kept starting to ask him straight out, but Peter would quickly intervene. After the seventh time this happened Jackson stepped back and held up his hands. ‘What’s going on?’ 

The two Hale’s exchanged glances. ‘Well-‘

‘Derek!’

‘No, we need to know.’

‘Know what?’ Jackson looked at them and raised his eyebrows.

‘Are you sleeping with the Inquisitor?’ Peter sighed as Derek asked the question.

‘Ugh, what? I don’t even know who that is.’

‘See? I told you we needed to do this gently. But no, I’m Derek Hale, I can’t wait for anything…’ 

The two older werewolves started to argue bitterly as Jackson turned around thinking about the people he had been with in the last two weeks. There were only two that came to mind, and Stiles obviously wasn’t the Inquisitor. Right? Further thought was interrupted when the door burst open and a heavily built hunter with handguns clutched in both hands and levelled them at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm back! So more updates coming!  
> This chapter focuses mostly on the Inquisition side of the plot, but the next chapter should deal with more Teen Wolf elements. Then I reckon I'll start the conclusion and hopefully finish up by Chapter 16 or so. Thanks for reading!


	12. The Sudden Descent

The Inquisitor looked down at his hands, turning them over slowly in the flickering light of the burning fires surrounding him. The blackened gauntlets of his armour had cracked and broken, the pale flesh of his hands contrasted strongly with the flecks of blood. There was a whistling overhead and a moment later a dull crump signalled its impact. Aurubar reached up and twisted off the remnants of his helmet, dropping it to the ground. He raised his eyes to the smoke covered sky, only the barest of twinkles revealing the night sky.

 

The past few hours had sped by in a blur, the confusing images burning through his mind as Aurubar struggled to cope with the chaos that had been so quickly unleashed. It had been easy to infiltrate the Hale house, slinking into the lower basement, the air heavy with the memories of death that had occurred here not so long ago. The Inquisitor made his way to the center of the room, his sight clouded by the tight, constricting dampness of the helm. Tendrils of darkness bled across his visor as he came close to the Seal. Aurubar crouched down, his eyes glowing softly in the gloom of the cellar. Whispering the words of power under his breath, he weaved his hands over the slowly emerging rim. The golden lattice of the Seal’s port resolved in front of him, the deep bruised purple of the darkness within bulged against the barrier. Aurubar concentrated, the runes adorning his staff flared to life and hummed with power he drew from it. His hand reached down through the Seal, its ghostly outline protecting it as he frowned, feeling the currents; the roll and swell of waves of corruption kept back from the world by the Seal.

 

After the briefest of seconds which stretched into the longest of days within the depths of the Seal, Aurubar pulled back, the ghostly protection around his arm falling apart like burning mist. He paused, before standing upright, hearing voices raised in argument above him; the angry, deep tones of the older werewolves, the soft, barely audible sighs from…yes, Jackson! Aurubar turned away from them upon hearing the door crash open, rolling his eyes as Tarus held up his guns menacing. The Shadowclad was heavy against his weary body as he climbed the stairs from the basement, drifting into the obscured realm and away from their sight.

 

Turning into the hallway Aurubar observed the standoff; three werewolves facing Tarus with guns raised high and steady. Derek and Peter had their claws out, fangs bared, while Jackson stood off to one side, his face frozen neither afraid nor transforming to his wolf state. Tarus looked over his shoulder feeling Aurubar’s presence behind him.

 

‘Well?’ He grunted, shifting his stance to address the empty air beside a ruined dresser as the other men exchanged glances. The air began to shift and haze as Aurubar stepped into realspace, the shadowcloak dropping away, his form solidifying.

‘It’s done. We should leave.’ Tarus nodded and held the door open for Aurubar. 

‘Wait!’ Jackson pushed forward, ‘Who are you?’

Aurubar halted, his dripping helm pointing towards Jackson, the blackened eyes staring at him. He paused, tempted to reveal his identity. But no, there was too much to do, to engage in pointless friendship, or anything else. Instead he turned away and stalked out the door. Tarus gave them a mirthless grin and followed him out.

Jackson sighed and turned back to Derek and Peter, eyebrows raised.

‘Well, I didn’t recognise him. Did you?’

 

Flexing his hands, Aurubar stripped off the buckled metal around his fingers and unstrapped the rent and pierced carapace, letting it fall to the ground. A roll of thunder overhead heralded the arrival of the storm that had been threatening all day. Flashes of lightening illuminated the wreckage around the Inquisitor, an open street not far from the high school, cars turned over and smouldering now as the clouds opened and rain fell, pinging off the metal. He raised his head up to the sky, the drops of water washing away the dark blood splatter. But the silence didn’t last very long. 

 

The impact moments ago behind a burning school bus emitted a high pitched whine and exploded outwards with a meaty blurp. Aurubar straightened up as he watched the monster slither away through gaps in the bus. Leaning heavily on his staff, he gingerly patted a slowly healing wound in his side; the result of a six clawed attack earlier that evening. He really should go after the monster, he can already hear the shouting, the screams, the sirens wailing past. But that would mean leaving the two he had rescued.

 

Jackson was lying in the street not far away, unconscious as his body healed from the furious attack, deep cuts along his arms and a particularly vicious swipe marring his otherwise beautiful face. The monster they had fought off lay in a grisly heap by the pavement; its hide punctured by Jackson’s claws, its insides burnt out by the Inquisitor’s runic power. Stiles was propped up beside Jackson, his arm pinned to one side and blood running down his face clearing the smoke and grime. A baseball bat fell from his hands when he saw Jackson fall, his own arm pierced by the monster’s spines. And then, and then a ball of white light bleached the scene, blinding him as the monster roared in agony. He squinted through burning eyes to see a figure dressed in dripping, wet, black armour shining sickly in the brilliant light. The light faded instantly and Stiles felt his sight desert him in the sudden darkness. His eyes blink rapidly trying to see the figure as he takes pieces of his armour off. It had broken in the struggle with the monster. Stiles tore his eyes away and shifted onto his side to look at Jackson beside him. Glancing back, the figure was gone, faded into the shadow, Stiles half rose, looking around him rapidly, noticing for the first time the charred and broken bodies around him. 

‘Rest easy, Stiles.’ The Inquisitor stood beside, appearing out of the shadows by the bus with ease, his face was obscured but the voice was familiar to Stiles. He frowned and pulled himself upright.

‘What happened?’

‘You were attacked,’ Aurubar turned away from him and paced towards the monster’s corpse, ‘Jackson will be ok, in a bit.’

Stiles leaned against the car and stared at him, ‘Have we met?’

Aurubar sighed, and turned to face him, flames washing across his features. Stiles continued to stare at him, the youthful face and short hair were familiar to him, but the eyes were hard, cold, flaming diamonds burning into him, capturing his gaze. The power slowly dissipated as Aurubar struggled to bring his power under control, the bare skin on his chest and arms were wreathed in concentric circles of runic power, blazing white. 

‘Ben? Seriously what the fuck is going on?’ 

Aurubar laughs, ‘Perfect symmetry, Stiles. When we first met, now at the end.’

‘Wha…What?’

A cold smile flashes across the Inquisitor’s face, ‘The Seals break and the world shakes…’


	13. Perfect Symmetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Inquisitor tells the truth, monsters are fought, the big bad is revealed and Jackson gets new power!

‘The Seals break and the world shakes.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Stiles looked around him as Aurubar checked him over carefully, wincing as the Inquisitor brushed a thumb over the cut on his temple. A brief sizzle and the pain receded. Reaching a hand up, he felt the now smooth skin. ‘Thanks, I think. How did you do that?’

‘An old trick, cuts and bruises are easy, broken bones and sickness are a lot harder, believe me.’

‘Right.’ Stiles knelt back down, placing his palm against Jackson’s forehead, ‘Can’t you do anything for him?’

The Inquisitor shook his head, ‘No, my power would kill him, it doesn’t work on abominations.’ Stiles glared at him, ‘Sorry. It doesn’t work on shape-shifters or other…non-humans like them. Are you okay?’

‘Huh, define ok? One minute he was trying to tell me something important, the next there’s fire and explosions and I don’t even want to think about what my father is doing right now, or if…you know.’

‘If he’s ok? Sure.’

‘What you said before, about the world breaking, is that what’s happening? Is this the apocalypse?’

Aurubar let out a bark of laughter, ‘Hardly. It’s the inscription over the gates of the Hidden Castle, in Europe. Carved over a millennium ago, it serves to remind new acolytes of the burden they must bear.’

‘So you are Inquisition?’

‘Yes. I am the Inquisitor.’ Aurubar looked at Stiles as he took the information in with the smallest of nods.

‘Why are you here? Are you responsible for what’s going on?’

‘Hmm, yes and no. I am the Seal Guardian, I am charged with monitoring and defending the Five Seals of the Ancient World from those that would seek to unleash its evil upon us. Each Seal is held in place by nine minor Seals; three of which are located here in Beacon Hills. If any of the Seals are breached, malevolent spirits from the other side will come through and, well, things will get messy.’

‘Makes sense, I guess.’ Aurubar raised his eyebrows sceptically as Stiles took it all in. ‘Well, ok, it sounds unbelievable.’

Aurubar smiled the smile Stiles knew, ‘Your boyfriend is a werewolf, and used to be a lizard monster with a tail and poison spit. And you think I’m unbelievable?’

‘Well yeah. I mean, come on, that’s some Old Testament shit you’re talking about there.’

‘Huh, an embellished history lesson.’ A whistling from overhead interrupted their conversation as the monster erupted from the impact crater with a roar.

‘Shit! Where are they coming from?’

‘Questions later, fighting now! Get behind me, and pull Jackson over there!’ Aurubar pointed to two cars bent around each other as he took up his staff in one hand from where it leant by the car. Whispering harsh sounding words he pulled black fire into his free hand. Stiles watched with open-mouthed disbelief as Aurubar spun the fire into a roaring ball of silver and jet. A crash and the sound of broken metal erupted as the monster, a thing of tentacles and claws, a wide, gaping maw at its center came thrusting through the hole it made. It was huge, much bigger than what had stood before them earlier. 

Roaring an unintelligible war cry Aurubar hurled himself at the monster, flinging his hand out and throwing the ball of fire into its mouth, he lay about with his staff, hammering at its weaving tentacles and bashing its claws away from his exposed torso. The blazing white circles on his chest and arms reignited as he pulled a silver sword from the energy surrounding him. The blade and the staff were wielded in deadly unison as Stiles watched the figure dance around the monster, ducking under its increasingly angry swipes and chopping off its limbs as it shrieked in agony. The burning smell of its flesh caused him to gag. As he coughed up bile he felt Jackson stir beside him. The teen grabbed his arm as he struggled to stand up. ‘Hey, Jackson! Get down!’

‘What’s going on? Who the hell is that?’ He gestured wildly at Aurubar’s whirling figure as he was slashed viciously across the chest causing him to curse violently. 

‘Oh, that’s just Ben. You know, the new guy.’ Jackson stopped looking at the fight and stared at Stiles.

Aurubar grunted as a fresh wave of pain gripped him. The runes covering his chest kept the wound from bleeding but he still felt the slow venom of the monster flow through his veins. He thrust his staff upwards to the cloud covered sky and roared the final rune of the spell he had been casting since starting the fight.

With a roar of thunder that shook the ground and rattled the burnt out husks of cars for miles around him, the Inquisitor’s staff was ignited with a halo of white light. Driving the head of the weapon into the hungry maw of the monster Aurubar struck the final blow and caused the monster to scream its unearthly roar in his face. A blast of light blinded them all as the monster burst into flame, its useless tentacles flopping about. 

 

Aurubar climbed down from its ruined corpse and limped back to where Jackson was helping Stiles up. He rubbed the dried blood and expelled venom away from his chest as he looked the teens up and down. Apart from their tattered clothing and healing wounds, they were fine. 

‘Jackson. Good to see you’re ok.’

‘Yeah, you too, Ben.’ Jackson couldn’t look away from him, Aurubar was leaning heavily on his staff, his sword dissipating into nothingness beside them, his body covered in smoke, blood and sweat, Jackson couldn’t deny he was turned on now. Especially when he leant out a hand to trace over the fading runes on Aurubar’s chest.

‘Uh, sorry.’ He stood back, sheepishly looking at Stiles who just shrugged. ‘Um, so Ben. You’re the Inquisitor?’

‘Yeah, he was telling me about it before that thing attacked us.’

‘Oh, great.’

Aurubar sighed, ‘Sorry for the deception. Had everything gone as planned I would have checked the Seals, stayed undercover for a few months to ensure they were safe and then dropped out and disappeared.’

‘So, Ben-‘

‘Uh, no, that’s not my name. You can call me Aurubar.’

Stiles snorted, ‘What kind of name is that?’

‘It’s old, powerful and forgotten.’ Aurubar looked at him, ‘besides, you’re going to tell me that Stiles is any better?’ He winked at them, catching them by surprise. ‘We’re still alive, at least for now. Any more questions, or can we get going?’

‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ Jackson glanced at Stiles who had wandered over to inspect the smouldering corpses of the two monsters. ‘Um,’ he began, lowering his voice, ‘why did you kiss me?’

Aurubar grinned at him, ‘I have walked this world for over ten thousand years, but I’m still a sucker for a pretty face!’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you’re hot, what can I say? Stiles is cute, but you, well I haven't seen someone as perfect as you for a long time. I couldn’t resist. You and Stiles, right?’

‘Yeah, we’re together.’

‘Good.’

Stiles wandered back over to them, ‘Uh, so what’s happening now?’

Aurubar turned to look at the school, ‘I’ve made sure the other two Seals are secure, but I never got the chance to study the Seal under the high school. We need to go there.’

‘We?’

‘Yes, all of us. You’re a werewolf, and while I would never normally ask for your help-‘

‘You don’t need to, I’m in.’

‘Yeah, great, wohoo.’ Stiles raised his fist in a lame cheer.

Aurubar and Jackson turned to look at Stiles who pouted, ‘Come on guys, you both have powers, and I don’t even have my bat.’

The Inquisitor chuckled and held out one hand, whispering a few words of power he soon had a gleaming silver and darkened wooden club lying in it. ‘Take it. It will last a few hours, or until I die, whichever comes first.’

Aurubar made to leave but Jackson called out to him, stopping him.

‘Uh, you two might have talked but I’m still in the dark here. Can you help me out?’ Aurubar opened his mouth to reply, but before he could do so the ground around them began to tremble violently. ‘Earthquake!’

‘Hold onto something!’ Aurubar shouted at them as they grabbed him and pulled him onto an overturned SUV. The ground split into a deep chasm as the quakes subsided, the tear stretching outwards from the high school. Climbing back down to the ground they looked back towards the school. Aurubar’s eyes flared silver as he stared into the skies overhead, the faint outline of a massive shape slowly resolving itself into realspace. He turned back to the two teens. ‘We need to move now. I don’t have the time to explain the dangers you will face inside and we’ll need your entire pack here to contain the effects if the Seal has been shattered.’

‘So what, you want me to call everyone? I’m not sure if I’ll even get cell service.’ Stiles mumbled, wilting under the twin stares of Jackson and Aurubar.

‘We can improvise. Jackson, come here.’ Aurubar rested a hand underneath Jackson’s shirt, just below his neck. ‘Now when I say howl, howl. Got it?’

‘Uh, ok. But I’m not…’ Aurubar closed his eyes and drew on the power of the runes written on his forearms; a wolf’s head rearing out from all the others. He pulled its power from the deep memory of its creation: a mighty battle with a powerful Alpha on the slopes of a long forgotten mountain in the fifth century. The coursing energy flowed up his hand and sparked on its contact with Jackson’s pale flesh. ‘Now Roar! Howl wolf!’

Jackson tipped his head back and opened his mouth, the power flowing through him did the rest. His howl echoed off the surrounding buildings, Stiles clapped his hands to his head, looking up at Jackson as the deep terrifying roar built upwards into a huge wall of sound which flooded out across the city, across the woods to where the pack had gathered. Stiles watched as Jackson’s eyes morphed from the startling blue they usually were into a deep blood red. After a minute the Inquisitor removed his hand from Jackson’s chest and caught him as he slumped.

‘What did you do to me?’

‘I infused you with some…captured power. To fight the beast, you must know the beast. It only works as long as I touch you though. You’re still a beta.’

‘Ok. They’ll come, right?’

‘Oh, they’ll be here, that was a howl no werewolf could ignore.’ The Inquisitor helped them both to their feet. ‘They’ll hold the parameter for us. I’ll call on Tarus now. He’s the other Inquisitor, he posed as my brother to get me out of hospital. Recover for a moment and prepare yourselves for the mindmeld.’

‘Uh, what? And, wait, how?’

‘Just…relax.’ He turned away from them, slipping into the shadows, disappearing from their sight. He could hear them calling his name faintly, before ignoring them and instead seeking out the silvery outline of Tarus. Despite being on the other side of the city, Tarus could be seen, holding his own against another clawed monster. The sheriff was a shadowed shape behind a police cruiser, while his deputies cowered nearby. ‘Tarus…’ Aurubar whispered the name, watching ripples in the shadows spread as he summoned the Inquisitor to his side, ‘I found the source….You are needed.’ Waiting a moment, he felt the returning ripples from the other, ‘I’m coming Aurubar…Let me just kill this thing.’  
Satisfied Aurubar revealed himself to Stiles and Jackson, the shadow cloak falling away.

‘Ok then.’

Stiles stared at him, realisation dawning. ‘Wait a minute. It was you: you’re the one from the forest. You saved our lives?’ 

‘Yeah, couldn’t let two handsome guys like you become werewolf meat!’

Jackson rolled his eyes as Stiles grinned shyly.

 

‘Ok, let’s do this.’ Aurubar stood in front of them and held his two hands out in front of him. ‘The mindmeld will allow you to see what I’ve seen, to know what I’ve known and ultimately to learn in a few seconds what would take several days. I’ve never performed it on two people at once, so it’ll be a little strange at first. I’ll control what you see, so you don’t end up with the entirety of my millennia long memories.’

The two teens looked at each other. Aurubar grinned once more at them and placed one hand on each of their heads. ‘Three. Two. One!’ A surge of power rushed up his arms and arched across his hands anchoring in Jackson and Stiles. They looked up, eyes locking with Aurubar’s as they turned into burning silver beacons. The world around them spun violently, yet their feet were rooted firmly to the ground, their eyes watering as everything faded into a haze. Then darkness.

When they opened their eyes they were standing before a shadowy monolith, and a ring of stones reaching as far as the eye could see in either direction. Glancing behind him, Stiles spotted a large statue of a kneeling figure, its features wreathed in smoke, its torso bare and well built; the pectoral muscles defined, the abs hard and the more he looked, the more lifelike it became. Suddenly the smoke shifted away from the figure’s face. With a start, he realised he was looking at Jackson; an idolised version of the werewolf to be sure, but it was definitely him. Behind the statue, other forms were beginning to emerge; other statues, all familiar, and then…a jeep? 

‘Welcome to the mindscape. We are on the edge. Behind you are your own mindscapes. You can see echoes of what each of you think about most. Stiles…is a bit obvious.’ The Inquisitor grinned, as Stiles looked at the black mist behind Jackson. ‘Hey, how come I can’t see what Jackson thinks about?’

‘Because he shields his thoughts well. You might want to try it; you’re too easy to read. Come on let’s go.’

 

Aurubar led them into the maze of stones in front of them. After what felt like several hours of silent journeying they came to a clearing among the stones. There was a black stone altar in front of them, the remains of…something still bleeding on it. 

‘This is a real location, only you’re standing in it five thousand years ago, when it was a site of human sacrifice. Here the ancient peoples honoured a dark and powerful monster known as the Piast; a massive water serpent. At first the worship was harmless, mere superstition, until a particularly powerful individual, a skilled hunter of monsters, like werewolves, came to the clearing. He sought to capture and kill the Piast and use his knowledge of runic magic to transfer the monster’s power to another creature, one he could control.’ Aurubar led them past the altar towards a deep dark pit whose waters were still and smooth. He reached out to stop Stiles from leaning in. ‘It’s just a memory, but still, be careful.’

‘Ok. So what happened?’ 

‘The monster hunter failed, but instead of casting aside the body as the Piast had done before, it ate him. The hunter had a number of arcane artefacts for transferring supernatural power. In devouring these, the monster became…extraordinarily intelligent, almost god-like in its sentience. It used its influence over the local people to create a cult in its honour. It demanded more and more human sacrifices to feed its growing appetite. The forbearers of the current Inquisition sought out this cult and engaged it in a long, bitter conflict until at last they were no more.’

‘And the monster?’

‘The Piast was originally massive in scale, but by the time we managed to defeat its serpent priests, it was enormous. Bigger than anything you can comprehend. So immense in scope and scale that the Protectors created a special prison deep below the earth to hold its physical form. After fifteen centuries of captivity it died, but its spirit was drawn to the lake where the cult had been founded; there was a bond between the death offered to it and its corrupted desires. The Guardians of the Seals came forward with a plan to lure and trap the spirit in the shadow world: the plain that separates the real world from this one, the mindscape. In order to prevent the spirit from ever returning to its corporeal form it was sealed into its prison by five massive doors: the Five Seals. Each Seal is anchored in the shadow realm and is visible to Inquisitors in the real world. The minor Seals in the real world, such as the ones in Beacon Hills, are ports through which the current Guardian of the Seals, me, monitors the integrity of the prison.’

‘Woah. That’s…That’s a lot.’

‘I know. But you need this context before I share the next part with you. I’m going to transfer my knowledge on how to fight the monster to you. Any questions first?’

‘But there are other monsters in Beacon Hills now. What are they?’

‘There are other things imprisoned in the depths of the world. Monsters will take their true form, or the form they think they had when they emerge from the shadow realm. There have been many, too many to name, just imagine all the myths you’ve heard about and now imagine them all being twisted and corrupted by runic magic. That’s where monsters come from.’

‘You use runic power, right?’

‘Yes. It’s what keeps you here. Runic power is stored in artefacts, such as my staff, or it is drained from my life force by the runic tattoos on my skin. Powerful Inquisitors can draw on shadow magic from the shadow realm to aid them in battle too, if they’re careful enough.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘Yes, it’s how I disappeared earlier. The shadow cloak is the most common form of the power, but I can draw on it to do other things. There’s always a price though.' Aurubar stopped talking as he felt the strain of maintaining the three of them in the mindscape. 'Enough. We should get back. Hold still now.’

 

They stood motionless, Jackson closed his eyes as he felt his head ache gently. A flood of images crashed through his mind: Aurubar standing shirtless in the center of a field of corpses, his staff aflame and a monster slain beneath him, the golden lattice of a Seal and the bruised purple of the light underneath it. He saw the blurred battles of hundreds of years skipped over in a matter of seconds, the casting of a dozen different spells, the formations of hundreds of men in a thousand different armours, their strategies laid out beneath him as he learned how the Inquisitor fought with the men beside him. As his eyes began to water with the intensity of it all, he forced himself to look at the one constant in this rush of knowledge: Aurubar’s eyes were flaring silver again; an anchor for him to latch onto.

Finally the rush of images slowed and eventually stopped when Aurubar showed them how he intervened with the Alpha pack, saving Stiles and then disappearing into the shadows.

Aurubar led them out of the stones and back to the edge of the mindscape. ‘This will come as a shock, when I release you. We’ve been in the mindscape for almost a day, but in realspace I’ve just touched you. Ready?’ They nodded, ‘Ok.’

The rush of power ceased and Aurubar let his arms fall as the two teens shook themselves out. He fell to one knee, weakened from such intense power drain. Looking up to sky, his eyes told him the Piast was testing the breach; sending the minor monsters fleeing away from it into the real world. Aurubar sighed and let Jackson pull him up.

‘Come on. Let’s get to the school!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am hoping to get this fic finished soon, and then I’ll likely re-write certain chapters so they make better sense. That’s the trouble with evolving characters: new ideas constantly spring to mind!
> 
> Also for anyone interested in learning more about the actual Piast, an Irish water snake monster of horrifying proportions see: http://www.libraryireland.com/Druids/Serpent-Faith-4.php


	14. Aurubar's Quest

The sky was rent with lightning as they approached the high school parking lot, thunder rolling constantly overhead and the air was almost singing with the magnetic discharge in the atmosphere above. The Inquisitor led them through the maze of flipped and burning cars, the pavements broken and cracked. All around them they could hear the chattering and wailing of unhuman voices. Jackson held Stiles’ hand in a vice-like grip as they walked closely together behind Aurubar, his eyes roving over the Inquisitor’s body every time it was illuminated by a flash of lightning. He noticed the scars and fresh wounds ripped across his muscular back, the blood flowing slowly from a particularly nasty one at his neck. The white light of his runic tattoos acted as a beacon in the darkness, drawing his eyes across their intricate designs. Stiles kept his eyes downcast, watching where he stepped, rather than try to put an image to the horrifying sounds so close by.

 

Aurubar held up one hand and stopped them near the front door. Unseen to all but the Inquisitor a plume of purple smoke rose from the ground, drifting high up into the sky; feeding the growingly solid form of the Piast. He frowned, clenching his teeth as the wound across his chest erupted in a fresh wave of pain. A noise to his left heralded the arrival of Tarus, the shadow cloak unravelling from him. 

‘Aurubar.’

‘Tarus, glad you made it.’ Aurubar looked him over carefully, ‘You’re hurt?’

‘It’s not bad.’ He shrugged the question off with a chuckle, ‘We’ll both have new war wounds after this battle, eh?’

‘Sure. This is Jackson and Stiles.’ He gestured behind him as the two teens came to stand in front of a smashed car. ‘You’ve met before, I think.’

Tarus nodded and opened his mouth to speak. A rustling from the trees across the parking lot caused him to stop, pulling up his guns as Aurubar thrust out a hand, preparing to strike. Jackson let his fangs slide out, releasing Stiles’ hand as his claws sprung forth and he dropped into a low fighting style. Stiles was pushed behind him as he gripped the silver club tightly, eyes searching the darkness in front of them.

‘Wait!’ Tarus called back to them, ‘It's only werewolves, huh. Your pack I assume?’

Jackson nodded as Derek and Peter emerged into the clear space before the school. They were all there; Derek, Peter, Scott, Isaac and a few he didn’t recognise. Aurubar looked around carefully noting each face; claws out, fangs sharp, eyes glowing blue, red and yellow.

‘Alphas? You would fight with them?’

There were three of them, remnants of the pack since Aurubar’s attack standing defiantly in front of him. ‘Yeah, we’ll fight with them, not for you, but for the Alpha who called us here. Where is he?’ They looked around as the Inquisitors grinned mirthlessly. Aurubar gave a noncommittal shrug, ‘Well since you’re here…’

‘Fine, Inquisitor. What do you want?’

‘You will hold this ground. Monsters will be called back from their ravaging to defend the Seal. You will stop them.’ Aurubar held up his staff menacingly as he heard the hostile growls from the Alpha pack; they never liked taking orders. 

‘Fine.’ One of them, a woman in a tattered black dress spat at him. ‘We follow your orders, Hale.’

Aurubar turned to Derek and examined him slowly, ‘Do you understand, Alpha?’

‘Yeah. Hold them here, you go inside and do…whatever it is you do.’ He looked at each member of the pack, seeing their confusion, but assent. ‘I’ll save my questions for later, then.’

‘Thank you, Alpha. I know it’s a lot to take on faith. I’ll be taking these two with me,’ Aurubar gestured at Stiles and Jackson as Derek opened his mouth to object. ‘They will be...needed.’

Further conversation was forestalled by the rumbling of the ground beneath their feet. The earlier earthquake had rocked cars and broken windows, but this was several orders of magnitude higher. The street buckled and arched outwards from the school, pipes rupturing and belching out flame and water, electric and gas lines crossed over as explosions blew open the pavements and threw cars over like leaves in the wind. A high pitched whine echoed out from the school, rising until it was screaming at them, causing all but the two Inquisitors to cower, their fingers in their ears, attempting to drown out the dirge.

‘Aurubar! We must move now!’ Tarus yelled at him across the noise.

Nodding his agreement Aurubar grabbed Jackson’s hand and pulled him and Stiles close to his chest. Tarus stood behind them, his arms raised, muttering the words of the spell. Aurubar yelled the final runes and pushed his hands together in a thunderclap. Tendrils of shadow wrapped around them and pulled them out of sight. In one moment they had gone from standing in the parking lot to standing inside the gym. Stiles and Jackson staggered back as Tarus fell to one knee, his power drained somewhat. Aurubar leaned heavily on his staff.

‘You can teleport?’ Stiles gasped out, his chest heaving. 

‘Not exactly.’ Aurubar straightened up, ‘We travelled through the shadow realm. It is instant in realspace but it takes a lot of power to make it happen so quickly.’

‘Seriously, Aurubar?’ Tarus looked at him from the floor, ‘just tell the kid we teleported. It’s easier, and a lot cooler.’

 

Jackson turned away from them, his attention caught by a fissure in the floor of the gym. The noise outside seemed to have stopped. He halted just above the hole, peering inside it. Even with wolf-enhanced eyes he could not breach the darkness. Aurubar looked up, eyes widening in concern, ‘No! Jackson!’ With a burst of speed he rushed over to the teen and shoved him to the floor. 

From the darkness below a great tendril emerged, purple and covered with a disturbing shine, it speared the air where Jackson had been standing. It wavered, before stopping as though looking at the Inquisitor. With a sickening squelch the tendril’s tip transformed into a single, lidless eye, bloodshot and staring. Jackson crawled sharply backwards as Tarus came forward to stand beside Aurubar. The eye bobbed between the two of them before trying to peer behind them at Stiles and Jackson. Aurubar growled and released a stream of white fire from his staff. The tendril recoiled from them and was pulled back into the hole.

‘Are you guys ok?’

‘Yeah, what was that thing?’ Stiles helped Jackson up, ‘Do we have to go after it?’

‘It was nothing, just a fraction of the Piast, seeking out the weakness of the Seal.’

‘Has it been breached, Aurubar?’ Tarus looked at him in concern, ‘Should we send for aid from the Hidden Castle? Or from our forces here?’

‘There won’t be any time, Tarus. I must reseal it now before anything else gets out.’ He turned to look at Jackson and Stiles, his expression softening as he noticed their fear. ‘You…you should leave. Both of you.’

‘What?’ Jackson closed the distance between them, his face suddenly indignant, ‘You trained us, or gave us your memories, or whatever. We can do this. Right Stiles?’

‘Yeah, come on Aurubar, let us help you.’

Aurubar looked at Tarus who shrugged, grinning at him, ‘Let them come. If you gave them your training, they’ll be helpful.’

‘Ok. Let’s do this.’ Aurubar walked back to the hole, ‘Stand back, all of you.’

 

Aurubar closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he focused his mind. He began to draw deeply on the power stored in his staff, its carvings burning bright with searing white light. The words of the spell were old, misshapen; clumsy on his tongue. It had been a very long time since he had needed a spell of such power and destruction. Reaching into the very core of his ancient soul he pulled on the runic power until his entire torso was afire: its energy humming in their ears. When he finally had enough power, Aurubar thrust his hands upwards to the ceiling and the last twisting word fell from his lips. A trembling was felt around the room, the walls broke apart in graceful slow motion as the roof simply ceased to be. The teens looked around in astonishment as the night sky was revealed; the storm was continuing overhead. The hole beneath their feet began to widen as the spell burned away the thick black smoke and the basement was illuminated by Aurubar’s light. The floor buckled and shook as he controlled the effects with a flick of his staff, pulling away the wood and concrete with ease.

The basement had once been home to all manner of forgotten sports equipment, a space no one bothered with anymore. It had been the first foundation to be laid, some one hundred years after Aurubar’s last monitoring of the Seals here. He could see the golden light of its power in an equipment room, just out of his reach. Releasing his hold on the power he had gathered, Aurubar turned to the others and beckoned. ‘Come on. We need to go in.’

They followed him as he jumped down into the dusty undercroft, scrabbling down the torn walls and plasterboard. They moved carefully, silently inching closer to the Seal. It was still around them, the air heavy with tension.

‘Steady now,’ Aurubar whispered reassuringly, ‘They will attack us soon.’ As the words left his mouth a shriek echoed down the passageway and a many limbed monster swung wildly at them. Dodging its attacks, Jackson swiped his claws across its stomach, retching as the slimy contents fell out. Stiles swung the club as another darted out of an alcove and caught the creature’s head a glancing blow, smashing it against the wall. Tarus had unloaded a clip into yet another monster while Aurubar shot balls of fire freely as they battled up the passageway. 

As suddenly as it had started, the battle stopped. One moment Stiles and Jackson were trading blows with a winged monster and the next it had flapped desperately off into the darkness. Stiles let out a whoop which earned him a stern glare from the other three.

‘Wait here.’

‘But Aurubar-‘

‘No.’ He turned to look at them. ‘It’s in there. Tarus, you guard the way. In case I fail, you get them out. At least buy them some time.’ The man nodded and pushed past the teens to stand behind them, reloading and checking his guns. ‘Jackson, Stiles.’ Aurubar sighed as he looked at them, ‘When I begin the resealing ritual, every monster that is out there in Beacon Hills will come running back here. To this spot. If I cut off the Seal, their manifestations here will die off. Derek and the others will be hard pressed at the front. But you must hold this position.’ 

They looked at each other and nodded. Aurubar turned to go but stopped when he felt Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. 'Hey.' He squeezed and released him, turning away to Tarus. Stiles did the same, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Aurubar smiled to himself and went into the darkened room.

 

The golden covered lattice was in front of him, its pure form now corrupted by the rising purple fog. Unseen to the normal eye was a haze of blue smoke pouring out of the Seal. Aurubar stood in front of it, his eyes drinking in the scene unfolding beneath him. Instead of the usual obscurity of the prison, he could clearly see the coiled body of the Piast, its skin a mottled green and brown pattern of vividly contorting shapes that made the eyes water. He watched silently as it raised its head upwards from the vast depths of its cage, the eyes opening into a vast black ocean of evil, the maw slowly stretching until his entire view was obscured by the endless rows of teeth, each as large as a mountain, as sharp and jagged as flint blades. Aurubar took a step backwards, wrenching his eyes away from the Seal as he watched it bulge out. On the edge of hearing was a tense whine and sudden pop. He glanced at the lattice and saw the edges becoming undone.

Gathering his power around him once again, Aurubar raised his hands upwards to the ceiling. He began to mutter the harsh words, the forgotten language rasping out from him as he drew ever more power from his runic tattoos. The earth quaked again, this time more violent than the last; the ground around the Seal thrust upwards as the Piast threw its weight against its restraints, raising the Inquisitor upwards towards the sky until he was standing on a tower of stone and earth, the Seal a golden grate in the center. His eyes darting down, noting the on-going battle between Derek’s fighters and a slew of monsters, his sight drifting closer to where Tarus had led Stiles and Jackson back to the surface. They were holding their own against a tide of large winged serpents at the base of the tower. Another thrust against the Seal refocused his attention. The words were being lost in his mind as he felt the sickening taste of the Piast’s corruption seeped into his body. With one final burst of concentration he sought to keep his grip on the spell, but it was to no avail. 

With a blood-chilling victory shriek the Piast broke through the Seal, throwing Aurubar away from it. Stiles looked up on hearing a yell and watched in horror as the Inquisitor impacted the ground with a sickening crush. Dropping the monster he was fighting with a well-placed hit, he scrambled over to Aurubar’s side. The Inquisitor was moaning in pain, his face a bloody mess, his torso covered in cuts, blood smeared with ash and sweat, his once shining tattoos were dulled and faded into his skin. His arms felt disturbingly soft as the bones had broken apart, already stressed from the power he had pulled from his body. Stiles tried to roll him onto his back as Jackson arrived with Tarus. The other Inquisitor looked up at the phantom Piast unwinding itself from the broken open Seal. His attention was stolen as another snake emerged from thin air beside them and attacked him, ripping open his throat as he shot its head off. Tarus rolled onto his stomach, eyes staring as blood pooled around him. Stiles and Jackson looked up at the Piast as it reached ever higher from the Seal.

‘Is that it? The Piast?’ Jackson yelled at him over the creature’s roars.

‘Must be.’ Stiles stood up and glanced down at Jackson, ‘Look after him Jackson, I have to try to stop it from emerging.’ 

‘What? Are you crazy? Stiles!’ Jackson yelled fruitlessly at him as he made his way over to Aurubar’s fallen staff. Looking between Stiles and Aurubar, Jackson swore and turned to protect the Inquisitor from the approaching serpents. The storm above them churned the clouds together and black rain began to hammer down upon them in the ruins of the gym. Stiles picked up Aurubar’s fallen staff, feeling the power hum through him as the runes ignited once again. Stiles looked up at the Piast and began to climb the bulging tower towards the Seal. 

Jackson looked up at him as he ascended, glancing away as Aurubar rolled onto his side, coughing up his blood and struggling to pull himself to his feet, instead managing to get on all fours. Stiles reached the summit as the Piast began to resolve its shape in realspace. He advanced carefully, feeling the words of the spell forming in his mouth unbidden. The staff relayed the runes to him, even as he gagged on their harshness, his mouth feeling as though sand had filled it, the words twisting his tongue and pulling on his teeth, he felt the power waver uncontrollably around him, unable to direct it as it began sparking off the Piast, drawing its attention. Stiles looked up as the great maw opened, the rows of teeth revealed.

 

Aurubar felt, rather than heard, the Piast as it turned towards Stiles. Struggling to stand, he looked up at the lone figure on the tower. Aurubar sighed wearily, but drew on the currents of his power once again. Feeling the freed energy from Tarus’ death he pulled on that as well. A torrent of silver energy wrapped around him as his bones were fixed and his hands extended outwards, immolating the monsters nearby. His eyes glowed with white again as his torso ignited with runic power. Jackson turned to look at him as the monsters he had been battling turned to flame before his eyes. He watched in awe as the Inquisitor’s form was bathed in silver light, lifting him upwards towards the Piast.

Aurubar landed gently beside Stiles, the flares of his runic power driving the Piast rearing backwards with a roar. Taking the offered staff, he smiled at the teen and pushed him back down towards Jackson who caught him with ease. Together they watched as the Inquisitor thrust staff upwards: a burst of white energy flaring into the eye of the storm. A lattice of lightning rent the sky as thunder rolled around him, Stiles felt the swell of power rise around the Inquisitor as he drew on even more elemental power to purify the Seal. He felt every hair stand on end as the electro-static discharge flared outwards. The Inquisitor was wrapped in a corona of fire and light, and there in the shadows, the echo of a monumental beast, a thing of fangs and scales and nightmares, black as jet with eyes of burning venom, blazing malevolently in the darkness. The fragment of that great monster was trapped in an arc of blinding white light, its shrieks echoing across the hills. Aurubar summoned the last vestiges of his strength and pulled his sword from the shadow realm, magnified a thousand times into a great blade of silver energy, he swung it against the neck of the monster, severing its head clean off. The monster’s shadow hung in the air for a moment before collapsing into the ether.

 

The storm rolled on, quieter now, not so violent; the rain turning soft and clear again. Aurubar looked over the wreckage of Beacon Hills, the ruins of the school, the fires still burning, the monsters slowly collapsing into dust as the Seal began to close. But it was still open.

Aurubar felt the rock and earth around the Seal relax and sink down to ground level again. He had very little power left; even the runestones he had made to track Stiles and Jackson were drained. But he could not leave the Seal open. The Inquisitor opened the channels of power and began to draw from his body again, wincing as the runic power greedily rent open his wounds, his arms and chest receiving great slashes as though from some invisible knife, the blood becoming silver energy pooling in his hands. When he had enough, just barely conscious he compressed it and completed the ritual channelling the power into the Seal, feeling it snap shut; its golden lattice reforming; its brilliance burning through his heavy eyes. Feeling his feet turn to lead, Aurubar summoned the last of his strength and pulled himself out of the basement back to Jackson and Stiles. They waited for him, the rain washing away the blood and smoke. They saw him stagger out of the ground, sway for a moment before finally crashing to the ground. Immobile. They rushed to his side, Jackson arriving first, hands roving over him, desperately seeking a pulse. Stiles tilted his head back and was opening the slackened mouth.

Aurubar could feel the darkness coming for him, this was the worst he had ever been hurt. Could this be it? The end at last, after all these years? The world around him began to spin as his hands sought something to hold. A strong grip took each of them, different though: two different people. And then…

Jackson looked at Stiles as Aurubar’s grip went limp. As he was about to start CPR, Jackson felt heat bloom in the man’s chest. An orb of silver light rose up from him, his tattoos bleeding light into it until they faded away completely, even his staff poured its final power into it before it too vanished. The ball of energy continued to rise until it was just visible, floating over the town. Suddenly it erupted into a wave of silver light. 

The energy cascaded down around Beacon Hills. The teens watched in astonishment as the gym rebuilt itself around them; the floor was first, then the walls, the roof remained torn off. Across the city damage caused by the escaped monsters was erased or repaired, pavements flattened, fires extinguished, buildings rebuilt. The people were caught in spokes of the silver light for only a second as the Inquisitor’s tale wrapped itself in their minds: the town of Beacon Hills had been laid waste by a freak tornado: only some minor damage done. All thoughts of strange creatures and monsters extinguished to the realm of nightmares and day dreams.

Stiles and Jackson remained sitting by the Inquisitor’s body, waiting until the sounds of sirens reached their ears.


	15. Epilogue

It had been two days since the Breach. Moia stood in the house Aurubar had rented for the duration of his mission. It was the standard Spartan set up most operatives employed, apart from the bathroom. She had felt it the moment she entered: a shadow cache. She had it in her hands now, a small book, delicate of nature, but well crafted. It was bound in fine vellum and the clasp at the front was solid gold inlaid with pearls. She ran her fingers thoughtfully along the spine. It was Aurubar’s grimoire, his complied knowledge of ancient spells, incantations and rituals. It likely held the secrets of the Seal Keepers too, as he had not passed the information on to his chosen before…well, before he had been mortally wounded. She sighed to herself and gathered up the remaining pieces of his life there.

 

Upon exiting the house she found herself being stared at by a shadowcat; a beast of the shadow realm, normally found only in Egypt. She looked at it carefully, before tiptoeing around it. The creature continued to stare at her, only an Inquisitor could see it in this realm. It padded silently after her as she hurried to her rented car. With an uncontrollable shudder she closed the door and started the car, her hands clumsily moving over the controls, unused to this modern vehicle. The car jerked off the curb and a strangled yelp told her she had driven over the shadowcat. Swearing to herself she increased the pressure on the accelerator.

 

Not a minute after the car had peeled away the shadowcat sat back up and shook itself off. Sniffing the air carefully it took off up the street, a silent shadow in the midday sun. It came upon a wealthy neighbourhood, chasing the scent until it found the house it was looking for. Slinking through the bars of the gate the shadowcat padded softly up the stairs towards the front door before passing through it with barely a sound. 

 

The large empty house was still and quiet. Well, almost. Its sensitive ears could pick up the gentle murmurs of conversation in an upstairs bedroom. The twang of bedsprings guided the shadowcat to the room; plainly appointed, with little decoration save for the mirror and lacrosse sticks propped against the wall. The shadowcat slinked inside and sat watching the two boys lying on the bed in each other’s arms. Their language was unfamiliar to it, but it stayed there until they fell asleep, calmly observing them. And then, when it felt its master’s call, the shadowcat slipped out of the window and dropped to the ground, vanishing in a puff of black mist.

 

Reappearing in the same mist on a rocky outcrop some miles from the house it had visited, the shadowcat walked silently over to the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff. It was wrapped in an old brown cloak, a shining sliver breastplate and cuirass hidden beneath the folds of the cloth. A hand reached out to pet the shadowcat, wrapped as it was in bandages, the creature rubbed its body up against the gentle touch as it too sat at the outcrop.

 

Aurubar looked over the forest to the bright lights of Beacon Hills, drinking in the memories of the shadowcat, seeing its journey through his closed eyes, smiling at the unsettlement of Moia and the obvious peace of Stiles and Jackson, even after all that had happened. He toyed with the idea of seeing them again, but knew it was pointless, he would not be back here for another fifty years, if all went according to schedule. But…But there was something about this place. Some inexplicable draw he felt from the forest itself. Oh, he certainly couldn’t deny the allure of either Stiles or Jackson, but it was more than mere lust. It was as if some power was beckoning him here. Perhaps that was why he had not left yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, for now at least. I might come back and revisit some chapters, maybe add an additional chapter or two. I really enjoyed writing this fic, even though it ended up very different from how I originally envisioned it. Certainly it focused a lot more on my original character than on Stiles and Jackson. I hope you've enjoyed reading it and I thank you all for the comments, kudos and encouragement!

**Author's Note:**

> First Stackson fic I ever wrote, prior to season 3(b) starting. Complete for now!


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